


if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more

by theunpaidcritic



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Cersei as Emma Woodhouse but the plot deviates from Emma fairly quickly, F/M, Fluff, I guess that makes Jaime like Mr. Woodhouse but with less tendencies toward hypochondria, No Incest, Romance, an Emma AU that isn't really an Emma AU, attempts at Jane Austen humor, constant references to eighteenth and nineteenth-century novels, my teenage self had lots of opinions on Austen so here they are in a fic, there are some minor ships here but almost all of them sink before they even set sail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunpaidcritic/pseuds/theunpaidcritic
Summary: Cersei Lannister, beautiful, quick-witted, and — above all — rich, has lived in the world with very little to distress or vex her. As the self-appointed mistress of her brother's estate, she knows exactly what is best of all the inhabitants of the small village of Casterly. She expects to happily live out her days as a Lannister, content with her charitable acts guiding her somewhat helpless twin, as neither are particularly interested in matrimony.Then Brienne Tarth arrives in Casterly and everything changes.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 554
Kudos: 239





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> When the newest Emma film debuted (which I highly recommend), I randomly thought, "Oh, Emma Woodhouse and Cersei Lannister have a few things in common. Maybe that could be a funny story." And then, somehow, that snowballed in me plotting out a full story I didn't think I would ever write ... where Jaime and Brienne took over the plot with their romance, which does not follow any Austen couple in particular (but has references to many of them). So I started actually writing it, and people were encouraging, although I didn't think this somewhat silly idea would have an audience. The next thing I knew was I had written the first half of the planned story and finally got up the courage to start posting it here. So thank you to everyone who expressed interest in this story — I hope I amuse someone other than myself — and especially to @cytara, for beta-reading and being so, so encouraging. (You should all check out cytara's As Black As Thunder, which is another JB story set in the nineteenth century.)
> 
> Throughout this work, I've incorporated several lines of dialogue from Austen and even more copious references to all of her works. The title, in fact, is taken from the great love confession in Emma. In rewriting some of Austen's lines for these particular characters, I hoped to play with both source materials. I also have attempted to channel Austen in this work, although I certainly do not hope to say I have fully succeeded. In this chapter, you might recognize the opening lines as a play on the opening lines of Emma; you might also recognize Jaime's initial description as mirroring Mr. Woodhouse; and you might see a few more lines that I used to draw parallels between Cersei and Emma. 
> 
> There are so many talented writers in this fandom, and so many interesting works set in this particular historical setting. I hope to contribute something new that might stand alongside them. I plan to post the first chapter quite soon, although I do not want to commit to specific update schedule quite yet, as the JB Exchange Fic deadline is on the horizon. Thank you for reading, and I would love to hear your feedback.

Cersei Lannister, beautiful, quick-witted, and — above all — rich, with a serene disposition so long as her comfortable home remained comfortable to _her_ , if not quite uniting some of the best blessings of existence, at least presented the illusion of doing so; and, in any case, had lived nearly twenty-five years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. The great exception to this life of ease was a great one indeed, but happily this moment of distress was confined to her childhood and had no bearing on the present.

She was the only daughter of the late Tywin and Joanna Lannister and the twin sister of the overly affectionate and indulgent Jaime Lannister; in consequence of their father’s death and the completion of his education, Jaime had taken on the burden of overseeing the family estate; their younger brother Tyrion’s schooling; and — naturally —Cersei’s whims. For generations the Lannisters had been considered a proud family and, in the days that Tywin Lannister reigned at The Rock, rather ruthless in the pursuit of both financial and societal control. The future Tywin Lannister imagined for his twins was stringently planned to increase the power of the Lannister dynasty, with no heed to their own wishes. At the tender age of six, Jaime found himself sent away to the Citadel, while Cersei was forced into lessons suited to a young lady with a governess who was no match for her charge’s stubborn nature. The sorrow the twins felt at their separation exceeds this narrator's ability to articulate, especially the feelings of Jaime who lost all sources of comfort. 

Although Joanna Lannister acted as a tempering influence upon her husband, even her fondness for her children could not alleviate the coldness of the household. When Cersei chose to think of her mother, she would momentarily give in to sentiment and think of her mother’s laughter, beauty, and warmth — the only warmth she felt as a child at home once she was separated from her brother — before remembering the lesson her parents’ marriage taught her: even an adored wife had little power over her husband. Maternity, Cersei witnessed, would only lessen a woman’s independence. 

The tragedy that taught Cersei this in plain terms was the birth of her younger brother. Despite the initial belief that Joanna Lannister had delivered young Tyrion Lannister safely, she died several days before the twins’ eighth birthday. Jaime had not been given leave to return home from school when the danger to his mother’s health was known and, as a tragic consequence, had been unable to speak to his mother a final time. His father’s lack of sentiment had always affected Jaime, but this final cruelty firmly turned the son against the father. While the Lannister heir had struggled at the Citadel from the moment he had entered its doors, after the death of his mother, Jaime sought further means of rebellion once he was once again ensconced in its walls, desperate to return to his siblings. 

The death of the Lannister matriarch would have been a greater shadow over the household if not for Lady Genna Frey’s return from her husband’s seat to keep The Rock in order while Tywin abandoned his daughter and newborn son for the capital. Lady Genna’s kind but firm hand directed all three of the Lannister siblings toward improvement, but the cloud over The Rock was only lifted once Tywin Lannister himself died not quite seven years after his wife’s passing.

A stranger to Casterly — the flourishing village that is populated by the majority of characters to which this story refers — might wonder at the lack of sorrow for the elder Lannister’s passing. But in seven years, Cersei had only seen her father when he had wished to express his disappointment; there had not been enough time for Jaime to forgive his father’s coldness; and even as a young boy, Tyrion quickly learned that the less he saw of his father, the better. The limited contact with the Lannister patriarch only did his children good. 

As the excitable Mrs. Bolton would happily tell anyone who enquired about this perceived strangeness in a lack of mourning by the deceased’s descendants beyond the superficial, the Lannister siblings were far better tempered and far more charitable than they would have been under the influence of the tyrannical patriarch. This should not be mistaken as praise for any Lannister, Mrs. Bolton would say, for the dark shadow cast by Tywin Lannister was long. As the years passed, Mrs. Bolton might add, Miss Lannister had perhaps far too much freedom and received far too much indulgence — she seemed happy to remain at The Rock and do as she liked. It was far too unnatural that a young lady would receive so many marriage offers and consider none.

The real evils of Cersei’s situation were the power of having her own way at expense of everyone else, and a disposition to think more highly of herself than she should — but when a young woman has received several offers and has the means to reject them without fear of negative consequence, why should she not? Cersei’s infractions, however, had been relatively minor to the point where this story begins — a story that shows how the flaws in her character would threaten to ruin not only her happiness but that of a person close to her heart. While it would vex the young lady in question to know that she is a mere background character in this narration, she might take comfort in knowing that it was her actions that set the events that follow into motion.

Despite the promise of new tenants at Evenfall — the property that most closely neighbored The Rock — now that Mr. Stark had permanently removed to Winterfell with his new bride, Cersei had lately found herself without company that suited her station. Tyrion was gone to school (not that she particularly desired her younger brother’s company), and Jaime had lately taken on more responsibility for the estate, having lost his land agent. The Targaryens were unlikely to visit Casterly this year, due to the unpleasant business that had ended with Jaime almost fighting a duel. As for the Tullys and Starks, the less said about those families, the better. 

Thus, when Cersei had the opportunity to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Wolkan’s pupil turned labour-boarder Taena Merryweather, Cersei did so with the grace and manners suiting a woman of her station. When one of Jaime’s farmer tenants presumed to propose to Miss Merryweather, Cersei was gratified that Miss Merryweather asked for her advice on how to refuse the man. Cersei was happy to oblige — it would have been a great sorrow to be parted from her new friend; she could not lower herself to associate with a wife of a farmer in any capacity other than that as the sister of the tenant’s benefactor.

There was nothing to do but demonstrate to Taena her appeal and find her a solid place in society. Cersei had noticed Mr. Baelish — who had experienced true disappointment when Catelyn Tully accepted a proposal from the dull Eddard Stark — glancing Taena’s way during the two women’s customary morning walk. The society in Casterly had lately been dull; she would simply arrange for Jaime to throw a ball after their new neighbors at Evenfall had settled. The amusement would break up what had become a mundane existence, and if Taena happened to draw Petyr Baelish’s attention, Cersei would contrive to continue bringing them into regular contact.

A wife of a septon — even if that septon was as tiresome as Mr. Baelish — would be proper company for Miss Cersei Lannister. So content with the knowledge these harmless manipulations would secure her friend’s continued residence in Casterly, Cersei applauded herself for her charity towards others. Cersei could not see any reason why these events would not unfold as she currently foresaw them — for in her worldly experience, when had her plans ever deviated from their fixed goals? 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei is not the only Lannister who might lack foresight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for a very warm response to the prologue! I am in awe of your kind words.
> 
> As always, thank you to cytara for beta reading this chapter and encouraging me to go on with this tale! 
> 
> I plan to publish the second chapter early next week.
> 
> For this chapter's Austen Easter eggs, please see the endnotes. As always, thank you so much for reading, and I appreciated all your responses! I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

Until the age of fifteen, Jaime Lannister had dreamed of purchasing an army commission and thus escaping the presence of both his father and The Rock; his imagination had collapsed the two entities in his mind. If death threatened to take him, Jaime had reasoned, then at least it would have taken him to a place where his father could no longer cajole and threaten him in turns. He had little desire to run a country estate and even less to do so in a manner that would receive the approbation of his father. The events of his fourteenth year, however, changed not only his direction in life but his rather self-centered perspective. 

At the passing of Tywin Lannister, Jaime inherited The Rock and an understanding he was now responsible for the welfare of his siblings. While Mrs. Bolton in the village might warn that, even with the removal of his father, Jaime Lannister was still raised by Lannisters to be a _Lannister_ , since fully taking over the management of his lands, the younger Mr. Lannister’s tenants were reported to be far more content with their position than they ever were under his father’s. If experts on the matter saw Mr. Jaime Lannister as an agricultural visionary of sorts, they did not need the truth — the young landlord was open to experimentation in order to fulfill his wish to exorcise Lannister tradition from The Rock and its dealings.

Now on the cusp of his twenty-fifth nameday, Jaime Lannister was considered in much the same way as his sister: handsome, sharp-tongued (which had gained infamy for the words he had exchanged with Mr. Eddard Stark his great friend Ser Robert Baratheon last autumn), and — above all — rich. 

And while he may have offended society’s matrons for demonstrating no interest in their daughters, alienated the village’s older generation for his feud with his peers, and severed ties with the Targaryens — his family’s oldest friends — he had quite a few admirers in the county. Namely, almost every female from the ages of thirteen to thirty. This, however, was viewed less as flattery and far more as a nuisance to the young Mr. Lannister. Mr. Tyrion Lannister regretted his brother’s lack of imagination in the arts of flirtation. 

In Jaime’s mind there were but three people in the world with which he wished to be in good standing: his aunt, his sister, and his brother. In spite of his natural disposition and inclination to spitefully act in a way he knew his father would have disapproved, he had turned into a competent landowner; and thus, he was easily capable of pleasing Aunt Genna — except in the area of matrimony. His Aunt Genna had no allies in the immediate family when it came to the urgency of a Lannister marriage; as Jaime encouraged Cersei and Tyrion to do as they liked, they, in turn, supported him as he followed his own whims.

(In the case of matrimony, Cersei was particularly happy to agree with her brother’s reasons for continued independence. How dreadful it would be to be pushed out of one’s home, replaced as mistress of The Rock by someone who understood nothing of its history! While Tyrion liked to think of himself as less devious than his sister, and wished Jaime nothing but the greatest of happiness, he also understood how his place as heir would likely change following such a blessed event.)

And now that Jaime saw his brother and aunt less frequently, as they applied themselves to their own duties, Jaime spent the majority of his time devoted to The Rock and the happiness of his sister — both tasks took equal effort. Tyrion happily wrote to Jaime from the Citadel with condolences on the latter undertaking, especially when he heard that Cersei had proclaimed Casterly _must_ be enlivened with a ball. For his part, Jaime detested balls, as he spent the majority of such events walking a fine line between avoiding the tittering eligible young ladies and being as unpleasant as Mrs. Bolton accused him of being — he hated to prove the odious woman correct in her assessments. He thought it was a shame he could not dance with Cersei; it would give him an excuse for avoiding the other ladies for at least two dances.

When Cersei insisted that Jaime make himself agreeable to the neighbors at Evenfall and, in due course, invite them to The Rock’s ball, Jaime was puzzled by Cersei’s interest in a family that had made its fortune through trade — she had always been far more snobbish than he — but, nevertheless, set his mind to the task. 

Upon visiting Evenfall, he met the good-natured Mr. Tarth and welcomed the family to the neighborhood. In the course of forging this new acquaintance, he learned that Selwyn Tarth brought with him a newly acquired wife and a daughter of one-and-twenty, the result of a former marriage. This being the case, there was more to discourage nurturing the acquaintance than encourage it on his end; he assumed the young Miss Tarth would follow other women: she would likely stare at him with cow eyes, simper, and — if he worked up the courage to endure a dance with her — bore him to death with talks of poetry or ribbons.

If Miss Tarth did have some sense, however, he thought she might be useful; he had lately noticed that Cersei had become interested in Miss Taena Merryweather, who Jaime privately thought rather too silly and slightly louder than what one might call respectable, and perhaps Miss Tarth might make a more agreeable companion for his sister — reading was difficult enough without having to do it with screeching in the background. Said screeching was even _less_ agreeable if it was over their ambitious septon; Jaime could not comprehend why Cersei wished to speak of Mr. Baelish at all hours.

After receiving confirmation that Mr. Tarth and his family would attend the ball in a fortnight, Jaime began his walk home.

His return home was eagerly awaited by Cersei who wished to hear her brother’s assessment of the Tarths, so Jaime decided to be perverse and to talk about the harvest. Cersei had never expressed interest in crop yields and, with the potential to gain insight her inner circle would not have on Casterly’s newest inhabitants, she had less patience than usual. 

To her credit, Cersei gave off the appearance of attentiveness for two minutes before interrupting, “Jaime, why must you trifle with me when we both know you called upon the Tarths?”

Jaime thought it rather hypocritical when Cersei complained about his teasing, as her favourite pastime was to toy with everyone in Casterly as a cat would with the mice under her dominion. Even so, he gave into her, just as he always did, “I met Mr. Tarth, although I cannot satisfy your curiosity about his wife and daughter. He seems to be a reasonable fellow, quite an improvement on the former inhabitant, I must say —”

“You would think anyone an improvement on Mr. Stark.”

“Anyone who doesn’t try to criticize you into matrimony is an improvement.”

Before his engagement to the steely Catelyn Tully, Ned Stark had spent almost a year reciting Cersei’s faults to her at public events (which was a great many according to the man who was as honorable as he was dull). Soon visits after balls followed, which forced Jaime to endure even more solemnity — accompanied by flowers — when Stark would routinely haunt The Rock, doubling cursing Jaime’s days. Even the brightest floral arrangement appeared to droop under the weight of Stark’s judgmental gaze. The more Ned Stark attempted to engage Cersei in a conquest toward virtue, however, the more vanity she displayed. Jaime would have found the psychological battle between his sister and neighbor amusing if he was not convinced that this was the stringent man’s preferred form of courtship. The more caustic his derision towards Cersei, the more serious Stark appeared about marrying her. The threat of being related to the Starks was almost enough to drive Jaime to once again consider taking up a career in the army. 

While Jaime himself had no interest in wooing any of the women he encountered, he hardly imagined the best way to do so would be through acting as if she were a pupil in need of scolding. Fortunately for all parties, Cersei was uninterested in self-improvement and Stark had found someone as judgmental as he in the neighboring county. This was not the first time Jaime was threatened with the loss of his sister; the less said about the Robert Baratheon affair, the better.

With these recollections before him, Jaime grumbled, “I cannot account for why people marry. Marriage is a dreadful thing, constantly breaking up happy families and creating odious relations that you have to keep up for the sake of the miserable fool who got married.”

He hoped offhandedly that if Tyrion married in the future, his wife would not ruin the merriment of the Lannister Solstice celebrations.

Cersei ignored Jaime’s dismal of matrimony — rightly assuming that his resistance to the state had more to do with girls like Lysa Tully and the silly gaggle of Freys than any opposition to romance (she was not the one borrowing the romantic novels from the circulating library that kept appearing in the morning room) — and asked for a description of Mr. Tarth.

“Quite tall. Pleasant. Seems fond of his daughter. In sum, unlikely to provide entertainment for either of us. I secured the family’s promise to attend the ball, so you can judge for yourself. Perhaps you might be kind to Miss Tarth. Her father described her as rather shy.”

His sister’s gaze made him fearful for the girl he did not know and, to be frank, had little intention of knowing beyond the bounds of politeness — perhaps it would be best for Miss Tarth if Cersei were to find her beneath notice.

“Why Jaime, what reason have I given you to think otherwise?”

Jaime did not bother to answer; the twins’ shared history spoke to exactly why he had cause to be suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Austen Easter Eggs: Jaime's quip about matrimony is very similar to a line Mr. Woodhouse speaks toward the beginning of Emma (although Mr. Woodhouse and Jaime have very different motivations here); Cersei and Jaime's interactions about the Tarths mirror Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's interactions about Mr. Bingley's arrival to the neighborhood; Ned and Cersei's "relationship" somewhat mirrors Mr. Knightley and Emma's in the novel, albeit not precisely; and as ulmo80 pointed out, the line about Jaime's admirers being from the age of thirteen to thirty mirrors a similarly phrased line about Wentworth's potential matches ... although Jaime is far less callous about making a match than Wentworth pretends to be; I also should say that Casterly is the closest Westeros house/place I could get to Highbury, where Emma's action unfolds. 
> 
> In our next chapter, Jaime is astonished by a pair of fine eyes ...


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne learns the judgment of others is not always correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again so much for your kind response to the last chapter. I'm awed that so many of you have not only given this story a chance but have expressed your enjoyment so far. I hope this chapter does not disappoint! 
> 
> I plan to post chapter three later this week. Then this story may go on a very short hiatus, due to the fic exchange. But I assure you, I'm quite far ahead in chapter count. And you will see more departures from certain tropes quite soon...
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all of your comments and kudos.

At the age of one-and-twenty, Brienne Tarth found herself to be quite miserable, despite her best attempts. These events were the direct cause of her sorrow: her father, acting as if he were the hero in a domestic novel, decided to marry her governess Miss Roelle Slate — the woman who sought to limit Brienne’s attempts at any activity deemed unladylike; the Tarth family had left the bustling seaside resort town Brienne had called home for the quiet countryside; and —worst of all — she had recently rejected a self-described fortune hunter who, in the most ungentlemanly terms, had disregarded her wishes and threatened to follow her family to Casterly after she had time to reflect. He assumed she would pine for marriage and see him more favourably once she was alienated by country society; the only thoughts she would spare him would be to acknowledge the blessing of being removed from his presence. _Very few men would lower themselves to marry a woman such as yourself, even for such a fortune_ , Mr. Hunt had said, _but all women are the same in the dark_. Brienne frequently flushed at the shameful memory and flushed even more so when she recalled being berated by her stepmother for refusing the only offer she would ever receive.

This evening, Brienne’s misery was compounded by her position in the family carriage that was transporting her to The Rock — a house of grandeur of the like she had not previously seen. Balls in general were uncomfortable — she did not know if she feared not being asked to dance or having to dance with a stranger more — but to have not a single acquaintance outside her own party was to make such an event unbearable. 

At home, her social circle was used to how she looked; at Casterly, her family would be the point of interest for the neighborhood, as they had been in residence at Evenfall for less than a month and, therefore, subject to the gaze of all in attendance. The stares would only increase once her full height unfolded, displaying how she lacked any redeeming physical features to counter her ungainly figure. And while her father had met Mr. Lannister and said he was an affable man — if a bit distant — Brienne suspected politeness between two neighboring heads of the household was a far different matter than entertaining the daughter of a neighbor of lesser standing. _What attractions could an unsightly daughter of a tradesman have to the Lannister family?_

Brienne had not had the opportunity to meet the occupants of Casterly, with the exception of a few shopkeeps, but she had seen a few of the girls in the village her age with very pleasing figures; she doubted the men attending the ball at The Rock would need to lower themselves and select her as a dancing partner. She was doubly cursed in terms of making connexions: her manners were as awkward as her looks. Brienne suspected she looked worse than usual, as her stepmother had insisted that Brienne wear a plain gown of white; the starkness of the color only made Brienne’s pale skin look sickly.

A carriage ride of only a few miles did little to delay Brienne’s agony, and so the unfortunate heroine trailed after her father and stepmother to be welcomed by their hosts. The vast rooms with gold decoration, prominently featuring lions, and their fashionable furniture went unnoticed by Brienne in her disquiet. From a quick glance around the drawing-room, it appeared that the Tarths were the only outsiders to this party; Brienne suspected the Lannisters had chosen to overlook her family’s more meager origins over the fact that Casterly could scarcely boast of a teeming society. 

The introduction to the Lannisters, Brienne was certain, would be just one of numerous humiliations she would have to undergo until her father noticed her social failings and made their excuses. These unpleasant thoughts manifested themselves in her bearing: she shrank into herself, eyes downcast, barely noticing when her father stopped in front of their host and his sister and spoke.

“Mr. Lannister,” Selwyn Tarth said amiably, “Thank you for your kindness in welcoming us at The Rock on so short an acquaintance.”

Brienne did not register the exchange between the two men or anything else, as she tried to make herself smaller in her father’s shadow. Caught up in her own anxieties, she barely noticed the introductions made by both parties and found herself giving a mechanical dip at her presentation to the Lannisters. She forced herself to meet the eyes of her new acquaintances, prepared to see the disgust in their faces, and was surprised with a vision of regal, sharp beauty. Jaime and Cersei Lannister were likely what the poets envisioned when they wrote of the ideal human form. Miss Lannister’s gaze was piercing for a moment before easing into a detached amusement.

Brienne expected that, like his sister, Mr. Lannister would quickly find her unremarkable, and, if she were lucky, he would let their acquaintance fade as much as respectability allowed — the only alternative she could imagine would be to become the punchline of a night’s joke. Instead, she could not read his expression — if she allowed her private thoughts to border on poetic Brienne would have noted that his emerald eyes conveyed an intensity of feeling, that could not quite be captured by language; as Brienne was not fit for poetry even in her own mind, however, she brushed these thoughts aside. She certainly understood the shock that had appeared on his face as they looked into one another’s eyes; she had seen it before on the faces of the men she encountered at public balls; she knew that if Mr. Lannister chose to remain civil instead of mocking her, it would only be because he held a modicum of respect for her father. She might not have been inducted into the best circles of Casterly, but she had heard whispers of Lannister pride; such pride could not allow for a warm welcome to her imperfect form.

But Mr. Lannister did not merely act civil before moving on to his more elegant guests. He requested her hand for the first dance, slightly stammering over an explanation about welcoming her to the neighborhood; she had greatly misjudged him — he must be exceedingly kind to give her any notice. Her father merrily accepted on her behalf before Brienne could question if he wanted to spend that length of time in her company. But, with the promise of a future meeting, the Tarths and Lannisters parted ways until the dancing was to begin.

Her stepmother’s heated glance told Brienne that despite — or rather because of — Mr. Lannister’s application for her hand, her father’s wife was displeased.

The newly minted Mrs. Tarth held the opinion that her new daughter was best suited for the obscurity; Brienne’s best trait, in the former governess’s mind, was her ability to render herself invisible despite her unfeminine size and disproportionate features, especially when she was occupied by a novel; and certainly Mr. Lannister’s only interest in the girl could be in some form of sport — he was far too rich, from far too great a family to ever lower himself in marriage to a girl whose dowry came from a fortune made on trade; it was not as if Brienne had anything to recommend herself, either in terms of beauty or accomplishment. The only time the girl looked close to graceful was when she went riding, but Brienne, despite her other attempts at being a dutiful daughter, had always pushed the barriers of propriety when it came to _that_ activity. Men, in Mrs. Tarth’s experience, did not marry women for their love of horses or books; those indulgences, in fact, were more likely to dissuade a sensible man. At the last Storm’s End assembly she had attended, Mrs. Tarth overheard a Mr. Connington express his judgement that even if Mr. Tarth had offered a dowry of twenty-thousand dragons, no man would take such an unwomanly wife; she saw no reason to disagree with that assessment. The best she could hope for was for the girl to keep herself on the fringes of society to diminish familial embarrassment until a fortune hunter would finally remove her from Evenfall.

With the prospect of more introductions to act as a buffer between stepmother and daughter, none of these opinions were voiced aloud, and Brienne found a reason to be grateful for the social protocols that had caused her so much anxiety earlier in the evening. As the majority of Casterly society appeared to find Brienne far less worthy of note than Mr. Lannister, she was able to observe the characters that made up her new social circle with little interruption.

Mr. Baelish, the Casterly septon, was an oily man who seemed far more concerned with gaining the attentions of Miss Lannister than meeting the new members of his flock; while another young lady might be offended at the slight, Brienne was relieved.

The Tully family who had travelled from the neighboring county — composed of Ser Hoster, Lady Minisa, their son Edmure, and younger daughter Lysa —politely acknowledged their new acquaintances. Brienne learned that the elder sister had recently married a Mr. Stark and that Miss Lysa Tully was indelicate enough to complain that the last time Mr. Lannister had visited Riverrun, he had paid more attention to her uncle’s war stories than her; Brienne inwardly thought she could see why, before chastising herself for unkindness.

Brienne’s final meeting before the ball opened made her almost grateful that dancing would soon occur; the wealthy widow Mrs. Bolton had been happy to tell the Tarths the recent history of Evenfall, unprompted: “Mr. Stark was such a fine gentleman, so very obliging and handsome. — He and Mr. Lannister were always at odds. — Probably because we all thought that Mr. Stark had his eye on Miss Lannister. — But the Lannisters are far too proud and far too interested in living in their own way. — One might even say the young Mr. and Miss Lannister are overly attached. — A brother should not be so jealous when a man courts his sister! — But Mr. Stark surprised us all and married Miss Tully and she is a very dear girl. — Miss Lannister’s haughty character leads her to attract far fewer fine men than you would think. — But I recall Mr. Baratheon, a great friend of Mr. Stark, a shame he is a drunk, Mr. Baratheon I mean, not Mr. Stark, tried his luck with her. — We could all understand why she turned him down. —I cannot say, however, that if the old Mr. Lannister were still alive his children would be married. — If you want to talk about a Lannister who exhibited the behaviour of a peacock.—My late husband used to say —”

Fortunately for all involved in this unfortunate monologue, Mrs. Bolton exhibited uncharacteristic self-awareness and cut herself off as Mr. Lannister approached to claim his partner for the first dance.

Brienne and Mr. Lannister took their places in the set; Brienne noted Lysa Tully’s amazement at their partnership. Brienne stood silent as her mind was concerned with the steps required, but this muteness did not dismay her partner. He began to talk of Casterly, ask her questions about how she liked Evenfall, and — when she could only stutter out short replies will doing her best to maintain a façade of calm — graciously attempted to carry the conversation, even as she noticed he began to turn pink from shame at having her as a partner. At this thought, she could not help but grimace and begin to imagine what the crowd was thinking about their mismatched pairing.

Mr. Lannister, still a little flushed, interrupted her by asking, “What are you thinking of so earnestly? Not of your partner, I hope, for the look on your face shows that your mediations are not satisfactory.”

At this question, Brienne coloured and, unable to admit the truth but also unwilling to lie, said bluntly, “I cannot say.”

“Very few people deny my curiosity.”

Brienne suspected very few people denied Mr. Lannister anything. Her partner raised his eyebrows; she turned a greater shade of red at the knowledge she had spoken such impertinence aloud.

His expression appeared to be more amused than irritated when he replied, “And I suppose you think it would be good for my character if they did, do you?”

Brienne said she would not offer an informed opinion on the matter, given how little of his character she had seen. He did not appear to be completely satisfied with that answer, as he pursed his lips together in a pout. Thus, when the dance ended, putting an end to Brienne’s fumbling attempts at simultaneous physical exertion and conversation, she was surprised when Mr. Lannister asked, “Miss Tarth, would you honor me with a dance later in the evening?”

In Brienne’s admittedly limited history, she had never been asked by a man to dance twice in one night — not even the man who had proposed to her had deigned to do so, despite the fact that they frequently encountered one another in the ballroom. Mr. Lannister’s departure in conduct from the other men she had previously encountered left her at a loss; he _should_ have treated her with disdain or polite indifference. She had accepted this a truth before their dance, especially given her inability to be charming; in fact, she had been rather forward. Mr. Lannister somehow managed to subvert every expectation Brienne had of her night — perhaps her stepmother did not understand all gentlemen. 

Brienne found herself claimed for the next dance by Mr. Edmure Tully, who followed Mr. Lannister in being perfectly polite, albeit slightly less talkative — this was not a remarkable achievement, for her host was the most loquacious of men. Dancing twice in a row was a new experience for her, although it was not entirely unwelcome, for both Mr. Lannister and Mr. Tully were improvements over men such as Mr. Hunt and Mr. Bushy. For the second-to-last dance before supper, Brienne was without a partner and sat near Miss Lannister and her pretty dark-haired friend, who looked enthralled with her hostess. Over the music and chatter of guests, Brienne overheard a stimulating snippet of conversation.

At Miss Lannister’s claim that the girl had captured the interest of Mr. Baelish (which Brienne found to be rather odd, given the attentions the septon had paid the hostess earlier in the evening), her friend replied, “I do so wonder, Miss Lannister, that you should not be married, or going to be married? You’re the most magnificent woman in Casterly!”

Cersei laughed — a charming, delicate laugh — and replied, “Oh, Taena, dear, what inducement do I have to be married? Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want; I am my own mistress, and my brothers would never presume to control my destiny. Even if I were to fall in love, I would be a fool to give up my position and property for such a fickle emotion. A single woman with her own fortune is not just respectable in the eyes of society but powerful in her own right. And what woman could be a better mistress of The Rock? Left to his own devices, Jaime would never host a social event—”

Brienne had always, against all worldly logic, held out hope that a man might look beyond protocols, beyond appearances, beyond wealth and see _her_ ; after knowing little but mistreatment once she entered society, however, she knew that to hold onto this belief was foolish. Her inability to fit not only affected her marriage prospects; she also was incredibly lonely without one person she could call a friend. Her small family felt even smaller since her father’s marriage, as such an alliance had made her feel as if she had lost the one person who had believed in her worth—he was now united with a woman who hated her. Brienne knew that she would never truly be at peace so long as she resided in the same walls as her pernicious stepmother, but very few fates outside the safety of her father’s home would offer her any form of contentment. 

At her most honest, Brienne would admit that since this unhappy event she had longed for romance more than before — she wished to escape her prison of manners and manicured gardens. But perhaps Miss Lannister’s perspective should be adopted, especially since Brienne certainly would not risk losing her autonomy to a man who treated her even more callously than Roelle. Married women may have a particular status in society, but that meant very little if the horror of domestic life increased.

Her rather maudlin musings were interrupted by Mr. Lannister who claimed her for the last dance before supper. Surprise once again overtook Brienne, but this time it was for an unfamiliar reason: she felt no apprehension at dancing with her host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Yes, at the beginning Brienne is throwing shade at novels like Jane Eyre (although, of course, Jane Eyre would not be published until much later ... and Brontë was DEEPLY unimpressed by Austen); Brienne's experiences in leaving her home and being in a new place, especially a "large" social event (which admittedly could be inspired by many Austen works) were wrote with Northanger Abbey and Persuasion as inspirations in mind; Roelle's attitude toward Hunt's proposal mirrors attitudes like Mrs. Bennet when Elizabeth rejects Collins; Jaime, of course, is taken by Brienne's fine eyes; Mrs. Bolton is, of course, based on chatterboxes like Miss Bates (but don't worry, no other Boltons are alive or present in this story); the narration style of Jaime and Brienne's dance mirrors that of Elizabeth and Darcy's, albeit the genders are reversed; Jaime steals Henry Tileny's line from dancing with Catherine (Jaime shares characteristics of both of Northanger Abbey's heroes); while not quite the same, Darcy and Elizabeth go on about character like Jaime and Brienne; and perhaps the most obvious allusion to Emma is Taena and Cersei's modified conversation of Harriet and Emma's about why Emma does not wish to marry.
> 
> In other words, if you were playing a Jane Austen trope bingo with this chapter, you'd probably mark up your squares rather quickly.
> 
> In the next chapter, Jaime tries to novelize his recent experiences...


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime wonders if he is finally experiencing his own romantic arc — with narrative interruptions from Cersei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who has given this story a chance. I hope you continue to enjoy where this narrative takes you.
> 
> My eternal thanks to cytara for beta reading and assuring me that readers would find enjoyment from this story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. I greatly appreciate reading what you've found notable in this story. I'm always happy to talk about Austen!! 
> 
> This is the last chapter I'm posting until the end of the Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange (to which I am contributing), but I have the entire story planned and many, many chapters queued to be posted, so I endeavor to have a regular update schedule in place later this month. 
> 
> Again, thanks all!

Jaime Lannister awoke the morning after his ball overtaken by strange feelings. While the eldest Lannister devoured the latest romantic novels — and was quite relieved Tyrion remained dedicated to his education and therefore could not mock his choice of entertainment — he had assumed that he would never meet a woman who would arrest his attention. In his rather limited experience, all the marriageable young ladies of his acquaintance had been perfectly obliging and, thus, very tedious.

Jaime had thought that his only experience with the innate understanding between two souls — a connection that so often appeared in fiction but never seemed to manifest itself in reality — would be the paler version of this he shared with Cersei; but even their understanding had limitations, as Cersei did not so much care for why he maintained the estate, in spite of the toll the responsibility of management took on his spirit, just so long as he did. He suspected that while Cersei knew their opinions differed on a great number of topics —Jaime’s camaraderie with his tenants, Tyrion’s future prospects, the longing for romance filled with intimacy — she also ignored this fact to roughly replicate their childhood relationship before Tywin had separated them. When they had been young, she had spoken for them both; perhaps he should have been a stronger master of his own self in the past, so he could have better prepared his sister for the disappointment he brought her when they differed in opinion. He still shuddered when he thought of her face after the harrowing encounter with Lord Targaryen; if his twin could not comprehend his actions, he knew no person would truly be able to look upon him without disdain. 

On the whole, Jaime did not mind his sister’s presumptuous nature, for it revealed her frustrations with the world to which they were born and allowed him to see her ambitions, her values, her flaws. The superficial conversations he had with other women — even on chance encounters in the village away from the excitement of a ball — hardly gave him the means to glimpse at beneath a polished veneer (although, after hearing her conversations with her peers, he would admit, Lysa Tully could use a bit _more_ polish). Their characters remained obscured to him; he saw no reason to adjust his demeanour to be more open with any woman, as they hardly seemed interested in more than the superficial elements that defined him. His preemptively dashed romantic hopes — for he would never be induced to marry any woman but for the purest of loves — had been unexpectedly reignited by Miss Brienne Tarth.

When he had first glanced at the girl, he noted how her lack of fashionable dress only seemed to emphasize her lack of grace. Yet, when she finally lifted her chin to acknowledge Cersei and himself, he felt himself taken in once he met her astonishing sapphire eyes — a description Jaime felt rather silly using, even if it was only imagery his mind could conjure. The shade of Brienne’s eyes, however, could not compare to the true attraction in their depths: by capturing her gaze, even for a moment, he saw a kaleidoscope of emotions — astonishment, unease, admiration (for him, perhaps?), doubt — that was shaped by an underlying misery. Forgetting his original intent to merely be polite to the girl, Jaime performed a gesture of goodwill the neighborhood had not seen from the master of The Rock: he asked Brienne to dance, twice.

In the space of two dances and supper — and subtly observing her when she was otherwise engaged — he had learned far less about his partner than he had hoped but what he discovered set her apart from all the women of his acquaintance, even Cersei — _especially, Cersei_ : her hesitation in speaking came not from a lack of wit but from a combination of careful consideration and observation; she expected no attentions for herself, not the slightest politeness, but treated every new acquaintance with courtesy; if he heard mutterings from a few of his rather indelicate guests on the subject of Brienne’s inability to resemble a proper young lady, he thought this fact to be a blessing, as he could see her character more clearly in an evening than those of his neighbors, despite the years they had moved through the same circles. Her unintended rebuke had done far more to capture his interest than the excessive flirting he was subjected to from his other, far more unwelcome, guests.

_Was this interest akin to the strange magnetism that brings together fictional lovers_ , Jaime wondered. His own imaginings engulfed him: what it would be like to have partner — of what it would it would feel like to wake up in a bed where instead of cold sheets to remind him of his solitary existence there was another warm body — of what it would mean to look into the eyes of an understanding companion and be able to explain himself candidly, without fear of retribution. In his most private moments, he had indulged in these daydreams, but they had never quite taken on such a specific shape before. Curbing his thoughts from rather impulsive visions of matrimony to a woman dressed in a blue that matched her sparkling eyes and the deeper friendship that would follow the event, Jaime nevertheless determined he would call on Brienne to solidify their acquaintance. 

His satisfaction at this resolution did not last, as he was under no illusions that Cersei would let it pass without comment how her brother had distinguished a girl, particularly a girl with no inducements the Lannister family would understand. Since the passing of their father, Cersei had talked of the two of them living at The Rock, free from the burdens of dynasty and matrimony. He knew that his actions the previous night disturbed every previous plan his sister had constructed in her mind. But Jaime suspected he could eventually win Cersei to his side once he chose to formally pursue the girl if he mentioned that a union between Brienne and himself would likely haunt their father from beyond the grave. The thought of angering his father gave him more pleasure at the idea of calling upon Miss Tarth; he could almost hear the tyrant grind his teeth in anger at the thought The Rock might be touched by such a woman. 

Jaime knew breakfast was doomed to be little more than an interrogation the moment he felt the scrutinization from his sister’s leonine eyes. He swiftly judged his best strategy would be silence, which would have the benefit of irritating Cersei without showing his own discomfort. This well-worn tactic, however, did not put his sister off in the least. 

“I do not know what your game is, Jaime, but it cannot end well for either you or the girl,” Cersei said, “You cannot possibly be serious about her; the Tarths do not have many suitable connexions. In one evening, I gathered Mrs. Tarth is a parasite, who would not hesitate to put her hooks into this family. — For being such a large creature, the girl shows very little promise of fortitude — did you not notice how she cowered under her stepmother’s glare? And while I cannot say too much against Mr. Tarth, except for his rather low origin and slightly coarse manners, I also cannot say much for him. And what does Brienne Tarth have to offer besides—”

“She offers herself, which should be enough in itself,” Jaime snapped, as he turned slightly pink and, unknowingly, handed Cersei her victory. 

Her suspicions that Jaime was already enamoured by the girl had been proven true. Cersei did not bother to hide her cat-like smile; she congratulated herself on being able to observe her brother with such accuracy while simultaneously ensuring darling Taena was able to ensnare the attentions of Mr. Baelish. No one worked more tirelessly for their community than Cersei; seeing Jaime squirm underneath her gaze was merely a reward for such care. 

Jaime should have realized he was being baited — not that such a realization would have stopped him from acting on compulsion. He felt a strange protectiveness over the girl already; he could not give a logical reason, except for the fact that he also hated to watch Tyrion be bullied — this was the one subject on which he had stood fully against his sister. While he would never abandon Cersei, he would not bend on this matter of respect; perhaps no one in Casterly society believed he had a sense of honour, but he would ensure that his family _did_ act honourably towards their neighbors. 

“So shall I wish you joy? When will we be gathered for the happy event? Jaime, do not be so reticent — it does not suit you.”

Jaime’s attempts at cool dignity were undermined by the decidedly red flush of his cheeks. “I hardly think two dances and a bit of conversation is worth fixing a wedding-day.” He tried to push away his previous imaginings that directly contradicted this statement of practicality; he feared Cersei could read his attachment far too clearly.

“But your thoughts have strayed that way already,” Cersei said, then paused. She was soon gratified by Jaime’s silent confirmation. This gave her the opening to present her brother with a few harsh truths — for no one in the Lannister family understood society as _she_ did — “I might be the only person who believes you to be serious. Taena was puzzled by your behaviour; in terms of status, it is confusing why you would mark someone a Tarth over a Tully —”

“The Tully name has almost as little history as that of Tarth.”

Cersei regained control of the conversation; she was quite happy to forget the Tullys, and it seemed Jaime’s interest in his new neighbor closed down the threat of Lysa Tully ever being mistress of The Rock. Despite Lysa Tully’s flaws, Cersei understood the girl was pretty enough to induce a man to marry for a moment’s pleasure and then regret his rash act for decades to come; Cersei had often worried if she would need to regret Lysa for both herself and Jaime, if only because matrimony would have given her brother increased access to the Admiral Tully. 

She had previously been thankful her brother appeared to have as little use for the state of marriage as she did, as the sweet Miss Elia Martells, the spirited Miss Lyanna Starks, and even the scheming Miss Margaery Tyrells never seemed to peak his interest. Cersei did not blame him; they all obviously paled in comparison to _her._ After last night’s events, she reasoned, it only made sense that Jaime would only seek the attention of someone the opposite of his sister in _every_ way. 

While Cersei did not relish the idea of ceding even the most ceremonial of powers attached to her home to any woman, Jaime’s pursuit of the Tarth girl was far preferable in her mind than any other marriageable alternatives: firstly, their father would have abhorred the idea — which, by principle, meant Cersei had to be in favour of the alliance; secondly, Miss Tarth seemed genuinely unassuming, which meant she was unlikely seeking to displace Cersei from her home and position in it, if the girl’s relationship with hers stepmother was anything to go by — for all intents and purposes, Cersei could remain mistress of The Rock; and, underneath Cersei’s calculus of connexions and property alignments, she was fond of her brother. Jaime was the one person who had never pressured her to modify her daily conduct nor had he ever presumed to sell her in marriage; she should return the favour of support when she was able, especially as it would make her appear benevolent with very little sacrifice. Even if _she_ had no use for romance or marriage, Cersei suspected that in helping Jaime, she could also use his courtship to her ends by helping dear, pretty Taena — the more social engagements to bring Jaime and Miss Tarth together, the more ways to contrive to place Taena in Mr. Baelish’s path frequently.

With these considerations in mind, content with the knowledge she would be able to control the situation with little effort, Cersei resolved to help her brother. He would surely need it.

“No one else in Casterly took you seriously last night, not even Miss Tarth. I heard her pernicious stepmother — and Jaime, you need to recognize that woman hates the girl, for depending how that hatred manifests itself, she may make your aims difficult to achieve — telling Mrs. Bolton she thought you were making quite the joke, and apparently, Miss Tarth was made a joke of before. Mrs. Bolton’s view of your character gave Mrs. Tarth no reason to suspect you were actually in earnest. The harsh truth is that all of the Tarths may possibly heed Mrs. Bolton’s words about our arrogance. They won’t take kindly to your history. You may be engaging in up-hill labour winning over her father.”

“You seem unconcerned with the most important detail: whether or not I can win Miss Tarth’s affections.”

Cersei dismissed this point; in all respects, the match was in the girl’s favour. Marrying Jaime would likely give Miss Tarth more freedom.

Jaime privately admitted Mrs. Bolton’s charge that the Lannisters were arrogance personified was correct — if arrogance meant being proud of one’s good fortune. Common sense would prove his sister’s observations correct in a general sense; however, Jaime had seen multiple pieces of evidence that Brienne was not weak-willed. At supper the previous night, he had made, in hindsight, a poor and rude joke comparing her dance with Edmure Tully to the gaits of mismatched livestock; Brienne had fixed him with a look of steel as he hastily (and rather badly) attempted apologies and explanations. Unfortunately, this incident also suggested to Jaime that he might be his own greatest enemy in gaining the girl’s affections.

The responsibilities of the estate were put aside for the day, as Cersei attempted to school Jaime in preferred methods of courtship, which improved upon his rather grandiose ideas, despite her lack of personal investment on the subject. Cersei personally arranged a pleasing bouquet of flowers to be sent to Evenfall in Jaime’s name — perhaps her greatest sacrifice in playing matchmaker was volunteering to join her brother for his call, so that she could distract Mrs. Tarth to prevent that woman from hindering Jaime’s attempts at conversation with Miss Tarth. The things she did for love.

After much fretting on Jaime’s part and much effort on hers to maintain an air of serenity, the twins were conveyed to Evenfall by carriage and soon ushered into the drawing-room where the women of the house received them with proper social grace. Jaime had not detected the enmity between the two women last night, but now forewarned by Cersei, kept a watchful eye on the elder woman. The first few minutes of the visit were simultaneously disappointing and awkward; Brienne did not speak and kept her eyes downcast in a manner similar to how he had first encountered her.

The health of Mr. Tarth was inquired after. Mr. Tarth was well; he enjoyed last night’s festivities. Once Cersei engaged Mrs. Tarth in a conversation regarding Mr. Baelish — a subject that was becoming more and more fixed in his house, to Jaime’s absolute puzzlement — Brienne finally lifted her eyes, although her pale skin was now covered in a dark blush. Her eyes darted to a familiar bouquet displayed on the nearby table; her mouth opened; she closed it again.

Jaime reached the end of his patience, “Did you like the flowers?”

“It was very kind of you and your sister to send them to your new neighbors,” she said in a rush, “They’re very beautiful. You must have a very talented gardener.”

“I sent them for _you._ ”

“Oh.”

Silence once again fell between them, which had the unfortunate consequence of forcing Jaime to listen to the tiresome views of Mrs. Tarth on the Frey family in her nasally accent. He tried again, “How are you finding Casterly?”

She smiled slightly, “Everyone has been very kind, although I do miss the seaside.”

“Only the seaside?” he asked, somewhat gratified by his attempt toward subtlety.

“Casterly has a far more peaceful atmosphere on the whole, I admit,” she said. “But I do miss the sound of the waves and feeling the power of the sublime when I looked out at the water, as it stretched beyond the horizon.”

“Our small ball did not disappoint compared to the great assemblies, then?”

“No-o. You have a — I mean, it was — thank you for your hospitality. It was a lovely evening.”

At a loss for how to better inquire about Brienne’s personal connexions, Jaime asked if she had seen much of the surrounding country. This led Jaime to energetically explain the charming landscapes of the area and how much they had to offer for nature enthusiasts, especially for a walk or ride on horseback, “Do you ride, Miss Tarth?”

“I do; in fact I —”

It was at this point that the other members of their party took note of their conversation, and Mrs. Tarth cut-off her daughter to change the subject, but not before Jaime caught her throwing a contemptuous look in Brienne’s direction. His curiosity was roused, yet no further hint of what division existed between the two women was given to him before the visit concluded. A promise that the Lannisters would come to dinner later in the week was asked for and given.

The Lannister twins had every reason to return to The Rock triumphant: Cersei had gained further insight into the character of Evenfall’s mistress that confirmed her theories and, thus, made her a true expert on the intricacies of human nature, while Jaime had the guarantee of seeing Brienne again within a few days’ time. Perhaps he would talk to her about horses—he just had to remember not to accidentally compare her face to one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: The first line is literally just a reference to basically any nineteenth-century novel ever; Jaime is still obsessed with Brienne's eyes which I swear GRRM got from Pride and Prejudice; all calculations on who is marriageable and who is not is just based on every Austen novel's considerations of such matters; Jaime's imagined rant from Tywin in loosely based on Pride and Prejudice's Lady Catherine's rant about the pollutions of the shades of Pemberly; Jaime is hardcore channeling some Mr. Knightley (although he would hate the comparison, likely) in his care for his neighbors and tenants; Cersei's teasing about Jaime's "upcoming marriage" allows her to channel some Caroline Bingley; Cersei's thoughts on Lysa Tully mirror characters in Austen who later find disappointment in their marriages, such as Mr. Bennet; Jaime's thoughts on Lannister arrogance mirrors Austen's phrasing about the character flaws of Mrs. Fanny Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility; and if you watch the first five minutes of Emma (2020), you can get a visual of Cersei arranging for a bouquet.
> 
> And yes, if you want to convince any of the Lannister siblings in this universe to do something, all you have to do is convince them their father would hate the idea. 
> 
> Next time, Brienne is confused about the turn her life has taken ....


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to read a book. She is interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you all again so much for reading and reviewing the story. I'm very excited to see what you think as I expand on the narrative. And also thank you for returning to this story after the hiatus; if you haven't been able to read any of the Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange stories, you absolutely should because they are all brilliant! (I'll reserve judgment on my own contribution and leave it to the public to decide; it is a very different story than this.)
> 
> I plan to have a regular posting schedule: I will endeavor to post once a week, either Sunday or Monday (if I'm running behind). I'm very far ahead in the writing phase of this story, so I expect to be able to maintain this with very few (short) hiatuses. 
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara for beta reading and encouraging me to post in the first place.

The past fortnight had been the most surreal of Brienne’s life. Since meeting Jaime Lannister at The Rock’s private ball, her existence had taken a turn from pure misery to pleasant confusion. She hesitated to believe that Mr. Lannister was truly attracted to her, despite all signs pointing to the fact that he was pursuing her in earnest: he had danced with her twice at the ball, which she had since learned was not only remarkable but _unprecedented_ conduct from the man; he had sent her flowers and visited the day after; he had focused on gaining her attention when he and his sister attended family dinner; his sister had asked Brienne to walk to the shops and talked about almost nothing but Jaime; the Tarths had been invited to The Rock for an evening party alongside Miss Merryweather and Mr. Baelish; Mr. Lannister had caught her eye in sept and given her a pained look during Baelish’s sermon; he had made a few bad-mannered quips, but unlike her other experiences with men, Mr. Lannister’s jokes did not seem to be directed at her with a meanness of spirit — his aim appeared to be to make her laugh.

She was embarrassed by how often she revisited Mr. Lannister’s visage in the privacy of her mind once he had triumphed in this goal; his joy made him shine even brighter. Moments in his presence were like moments in the sun — all too rare and far too full of warmth to dare to grow accustomed to such a state. 

If Brienne could not account for why the most handsome and distinguished inhabitant of Casterly was even somewhat drawn to her, then she could at least admit she liked him and admired how diligently he applied himself to his responsibilities — such behaviour demonstrated his honour as a gentleman. There were times that Brienne fancied that Mr. Lannister felt as trapped as she did in this small world, but she would then quickly push these thoughts away, for how could a man who embodied the epitome of country life wish to do anything but uphold it? She was surely missing a social cue or plausible explanation; she was, after all, rather slow in general and quite dimwitted when it came to social graces in particular, as Roelle frequently reminded her.

The removal from the seaside to Casterly had brought about a happy development: her father had bought her a riding horse of her own; she would no longer be limited to the only school in town’s riding lesson hours for ladies. Nor would she be confined to riding aside like a proper young lady. Roelle disapproved of Brienne’s interest, partially because she condemned Brienne’s existence on the whole and partially because when she still served as governess, she stopped Brienne from committing a scandal related to the exercise. 

While the Tarths’ family history was seen as a mark against them in the upper echelons of polite society, especially for how this lack of breeding shaped, or rather did not mold, the patriarch’s manners, in Brienne’s daily life she reaped the rewards of a negligently permissive father who cared less than he perhaps should about how his daughter’s conduct appeared to others. If his wife had every faith Brienne would remain a spinster if Mr. Hunt did not apply for her hand again, then her father had an unshakeable belief that Brienne would one day make a promising match. What went unmentioned was that Brienne was currently her father’s only heir, although her stepmother believed this would not always be the case.

The day the Tarths were finally free of the social obligations that plagued recently inducted members of a close-knit agrarian community, Brienne was the only member of the family who rose when the servants did. She decided to finally explore the countryside Mr. Lannister had so animatedly described, gathered a small picnic and a book, and went to find her horse. The ride was pleasant: the weather had been uncommonly dry over the last week, preventing Brienne from having to navigate puddles (or worry about displeasing Roelle later by tracking in mud), and she was able to pass through verdant fields feeling nothing more than the exultation that came from freedom. The short distance between Evenfall and The Rock gave her variety in the landscape, as she could see the imposing house and its sprawling gardens, the plentiful orchards, and its famous strawberry beds that had featured in every story she had heard about The Rock since the ball. (While Mrs. Bolton was, on the whole, critical of the Lannisters, she had nothing to say against the strawberries with which they supplied her every summer.)

Brienne had only just settled under a tree on the edge of Evenfall’s property when she heard the gait of another horse coming from the direction of The Rock — its rider was Mr. Lannister. Taking notice of Brienne, he brought his horse to a stop, dismounted, and asked to join her. Roelle would not have approved of more than a polite exchange of greetings before one of them went about their business; Brienne happily agreed to Mr. Lannister’s request. They exchanged the usual pleasantries for a few moments — Mr. Lannister stated that Brienne was welcome to explore the land connected to The Rock at her leisure — before her companion took the conversation in a new direction, as he noticed Brienne’s book.

“Oh! You’re reading _Ser Barriston Selmy._ What a wretchedly boring book,” he declared.

As Brienne found the hero of her favourite novel to be the perfect model of honor and the adventures of the novel quite thrilling, she took exception to this and said so.

“The novel relies on Selmy’s fidelity to his cause makes him appear more honorable than other men,” Jaime argued. “But is he really that different than the corrupt society around him? He moves through and benefits from it.”

Brienne thought this statement was rather dismissive, given Mr. Lannister’s own status, and so was roused to Ser Barriston’s defense.

And so the greater part of the morning was spent arguing the finer points of _Ser Barriston Selmy_ , and given the length of the tome, there were many. Miffed that a number of Jaime’s points had landed, and thus damaged, if not destroyed her stalwart faith in this fictional ideal, she inquired what he would recommend she read in its stead.

“I have recently found the novels by Jeyne Arryn to be a delightful blend of wit and social commentary.”

“Is that how you developed your humour?”

“My humour, if not my sense of romance. Our little side of the country would improve if but we all had Arryn’s sensibilities.”

“Well, then let me express sympathy for any person who aligns with such fictional ideals, under your direction, for some of her novels are not very romantic at all. You should choose to provide a better example.”

“What do you mean,” he cried, rather offended on his favorite author’s behalf; it appeared he was far more attached to his novels than Brienne was to _hers_.

“I found _Sansa_ to be disappointing. The heroine begins the novel with notions that move her towards greatness, not only for herself but for her friends, and by the end every radical act is upended. There is a difference between self-improvement and being made to feel small by others,” Brienne replied.

Jaime suspected that Brienne had made to feel small on a regular basis to have such passion for her point but miraculously kept that line of thought to himself and instead argued that _Hubris and Honour_ was proof of the perfection of the novel form.

Brienne smiled slightly, “ _Hubris and Honour_ is different from _Sansa_ in that both characters have to recognize their faults and learn from each other. Poor Sansa is merely lectured to death by her suitor until she is somehow convinced to walk down the aisle.”

Jaime did agree with this assessment to some degree; in fact, his first reading of the poor maligned novel had occurred around the time Ned Stark began to pay Cersei far too much attention. Novels were remarkably prophetic, in Jaime’s mind. But, despite his belief he could trust Brienne with anything he contrived to tell her, he recognized it would be rather improper to gossip about his sister with another woman, even the one for whom he felt a most tender affection. Instead, he returned last time to Jeyne Arryn. “Her newest novel is set by the seaside and quite romantic.”

“I did not take you to indulge in romance.”

Jaime’s expression became quite unreadable, “I suppose must then endeavour to better show _you_ my character.” He stood, she followed. “I must get back to The Rock.”

She wished him a good day as he mounted his horse. He could not resist a parting comment, “You know, your bay mare is as homely as you.” 

Brienne frowned. She had thought her father had bought a horse that was sweet to look upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Jaime being pained at the sept is a reference to literally every tortured experience Austen characters feel in such places ... Emma (2020) and Pride and Prejudice (2005) have great scenes that never fail to make me laugh; Mr. Tarth is bordering a little too closely to Mr. Bennet's bad parenting, I'm afraid; the strawberry beds are, of course, a reference to Mr. Knightley's strawberries; Austen would probably not appreciate me leaving a heroine and hero alone in such a state, but if Pride and Prejudice (2005) can let Wickham and Elizabeth talk under a tree, I decided Jaime and Brienne can too; Ser Barriston Selmy is a reference to one of Austen's favorite novels by Samuel Richardson: Sir Charles Grandison, although I definitely imagined Ser Barriston as having its own plot ... mostly because Grandison is LONG and really hard to find, so I haven't finished; Jeyne Arryn is obviously a stand-in for Jane Austen in this world; Sansa is, of course, Emma (I chose Sansa because it sounded close enough to Emma ... my reasons are extremely deep and thougtful); Hubris and Honour is Pride and Prejudice; the unnamed novel by the seaside Persuasion; Jaime, like Darcy just keeps going on about his character.
> 
> Next Chapter: Cersei charitably turns her attentions to Casterly's population. 
> 
> Also, I have to note that as I was writing this, I discovered imaginegreatadventure wrote a Game of Thrones/Emma fusion featuring Sansa as the Emma character. While I haven't been able to read it yet, I KNOW it's brilliant based solely on the quality of imaginegreatadventure's current JB WIP based on Agatha Christie's novel The Moving Finger. If you're interested in what I'm sure is a very different take on Emma (although lolz that everyone seems to think Mr. Baelish=Mr. Elton), please see: [Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432770/chapters/30785340).


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei suffers for her community's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much to everyone for reading! I appreciate every comment and kudo you leave!! I hope everyone continues to enjoy the story as we return, slightly, to being an obvious Emma AU.
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading. Also, if you haven't read her nineteenth-century Gothic epic As Black As Thunder, you should go do that!!
> 
> I apologize in advance for Cersei's point of view. She's not canon Cersei, but she still has flaws...

As the self-declared center of Casterly’s community, Cersei Lannister resolved that she must always feel compassion for those beneath her; she assumed that the rest of the population would be led by her example, so she decided to take up the act of visiting the impoverished. Several walks with Taena to the edge of Casterly to deliver plums and a selection of the season’s first apples from The Rock’s orchards to the least fortunate had been trying yet revelatory.

Upon leaving the cottage of the Peckledon family, Cersei remarked, “To see these conditions in person, Taena, do us good. For how they make even _your_ meager existence appear extravagant! — I will not think of anything but these poor creatures for all the rest of the day; how will these images be driven from my mind when they are so horrific?”

Taena replied in the affirmative; her sweet disposition made the girl the embodiment of the perfect domestic heroine, whose loveliness in body was complemented by the loveliness of her heart. The companions each made a few more remarks on the subject — such sights were enough to make one wish to write gauche sentimental poetry — before they came upon Mr. Baelish and greetings were exchanged.

Cersei immediately seized upon the opportunity; she contrived to fall behind her companions so that they could talk of the virtues of caring for the poor. Taena’s activity on this front, Cersei decided, could only demonstrate how easily she could take up the vocation of a septon’s wife. Another excuse for Mr. Baelish to visit the dear girl at The Rock soon entered Cersei’s mind.

“Mr. Baelish,” Cersei said as she rejoined her party, “Taena and I have been collecting riddles to test our intellectual mettle — my friend is intelligent as well as charitable. But we are in quite a sad state at present, as we no longer can find original material. A man as clever as yourself must be able to write us one!”

“I am but a humble man, Miss Lannister,” the septon replied. “I hardly know where I would begin, for I doubt my cleverness would approach yours.”

“But you _are_ clever in saying so, and thus, you have undermined your false claim. A septon should hardly lie, sir, although due to your attempts at flattery and humility, I shall graciously forgive you with one condition. Your punishment must be to submit your riddle to Taena.”

He merrily agreed, while Cersei struggled to keep her calm exterior, for feelings of satisfaction overtook her. Her silence gave Taena and Mr. Baelish an opportunity to continue their dialogue, and she was soon gratified to hear the two parties converse on a number of topics, including Mr. Baelish’s recent visit to Mr. Tarth. Content with the state of the relations between Taena and Mr. Baelish, Cersei took this new topic of conversation as a sign she should pay the woman who so troubled her brother a bit more attention.

Thus, several days later, Cersei brought Miss Tarth with her to attend to a poor sick family.

Cersei thanked her companion, observing, “When I thought of the necessity for charity, you instantly sprung to mind.”

Miss Tarth grimaced momentarily, which proved to Cersei her companion was no simpleton — she could hear double meaning. Although, Cersei thought, the girl surely had plenty of experience in receiving back-handed compliments. To Miss Tarth’s credit, she always appeared to keep her temper, but Cersei could not understand what, precisely, about this bland kindness attracted her brother; except, perhaps, the girl was in every way the opposite of what traditional Lannisters would want in a bride — even her dowry would come from an _unfortunate_ source. Miss Tarth did not even appear to senselessly worship her brother; while she certainly spoke of him kindly, there was no shining devotion in Miss Tarth’s voice that compared to how Cersei had heard Taena speak of _Miss Lannister_ with a tone of awe. Even Mr. Baratheon, the most lamentable of Cersei's suitors, had played at love so thoroughly there was no mistaking his wishes.

These thoughts consumed Cersei throughout their walk, so much so that the degradation of the cottage startled her. The state of distress was worse than Cersei had expected; the goods she had brought could not remedy the conditions of the overcrowded and ill family. While she sought to comfort the dirty children from afar, Miss Tarth determined that the doctor should be called. Cersei volunteered to alert Qyburn; at the question of the overtaxed mother at who should pay, for the family could not, Miss Tarth declared that she would take care of it.

“No, no,” Cersei said — she would not be outdone; this burden of support was hers to bear. “Qyburn can collect from The Rock. We are the cornerstone of Casterly, and the estate is meant to serve the community. Jaime would not have it any other way.” 

Privately, Cersei believed her brother would be ecstatic to perform any action that would please the girl, even disbursing bills for nameless inferiors.

After much drama, which was unnecessary in Cersei’s mind, Qyburn had made a diagnosis and prescribed a treatment, and it appeared the Lannister coffers would only be a few stags lighter. Charity, Cersei discovered, was a tiring business, and could be more so than usual if one’s companion was a devotee to the subject. For while Cersei always reflected on her own privilege at the end of a visit to the cottages, a ritual that was always ameliorated by Taena’s sweet praise, Miss Tarth had taken a different view on their harrowing experience:

“Miss Lannister,” the girl began once they had begun their journey home, “I am still new to Casterly, so I do not know how these things are handled, but what is being done for the village poor?”

As Miss Tarth had just witnessed an act of charity, Cersei thought this to be a particularly stupid and redundant question, but for her brother’s sake, she maintained politeness when she answered, “Well, dear, The Rock sends the families excess from our orchards and fields, and I believe Mr. Baelish visits far more often than I.”

“That is very kind,” Miss Tarth replied, and for a moment Cersei was gratified, until she continued on, “But should the more privileged not consider a more long-term means of aid?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Miss Tarth began to explain about some philanthropic nonsense she had clearly gleaned from the serials or some odious, and most likely overblown, report. This had been the most the girl had ever spoken in Cersei’s presence; she hoped Jaime was not bored to death by this type of good-doerism in his conversations with Miss Tarth. Philanthropy appeared to be a favourite topic of Miss Tarth’s, as it carried them to Evenfall’s doors, where Cersei gladly bid her companion adieu. 

When Cersei recounted her adventures of the day to her brother that evening in the drawing-room, she did not quite get the reaction she expected, as Jaime asked her a great deal of questions searching for answers on Miss Tarth’s opinions of the cottages and if Cersei thought the Lannisters might be able to help in some way beyond their current actions.

“She told me she thought accommodations made for the poor by law were insufficient, if you can believe that,” Cersei sniffed.

The fondness that softened her brother’s face as he replied told Cersei that he indeed could.

If Jaime had taken this interest in philanthropy earlier, his sister thought, then he and Ned Stark might have gotten on a good deal better. As it was, Cersei was forced to admit she had not paid attention to Miss Tarth’s ideas — she was unsure if she suffered more from the confession she did not know something she ought or from recalling Miss Tarth’s judgmental tone.

Jaime gave her a wounded look before saying, “I suppose I will have to inquire myself tomo—when I next see her.”

Given that Cersei knew quite well there was no proper reason her brother _should_ encounter the object of his desire _tomorrow_ , perhaps Miss Tarth was less tiresome and innocent than Cersei had assumed, if Jaime’s slip of the tongue was a means to rest a judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: The first half of this chapter is an adaptation of Emma and Harriet's visits to the Highbury poor and their encounter with Mr. Elton; in the novel Emma, Emma and Harriet collect riddles and Mr. Elton gives one whose answer is courtship ... this riddle may play a different role in the story if it ever reappears; Cersei's belief that others would be led by her example is based on Knightley's line toward the end of Emma, when he scolds her for how she treats Miss Bates; Cersei is thinking about poetry like William Blake's The Chimney Sweeper; Brienne's critique of the poor laws are an allusion to the English Poor Laws, which were critiqued soundly throughout the nineteenth century by various writers, including in fiction.
> 
> Next time: Prepare for a big chapter. And by big, I mean literally at least twice the size of this one, because Jaime couldn't stop talking once he got started ....
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you!!


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne have a series of conversations. Some go better than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos on the last chapter. I'm so glad you enjoyed your journey through the mind of Cersei Lannister, and the fact that you left feedback means so much! 
> 
> I would like to thank cytara and jellyb34n for their feedback on this chapter. And basically holding my hand as I panicked over it. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys Jaime's thoughts and feelings.
> 
> A note on this chapter: Although the events described are in the past, there is some canon typical violence mentioned in this chapter.

As summer gently turned into autumn, Jaime found himself far more often in the company of Brienne Tarth than would be deemed strictly appropriate by society. Fortunately, the population of Casterly remained unaware of the frequent meetings that occurred between the two when they both happened to either be riding or walking alongside the boundaries between Evenfall and The Rock. (Cersei had made a snide comment that Jaime was suddenly _very_ interested in exercise, but he knew she would say nothing to anyone else, if only because she hoarded gossip like a dragon hoarded its gold. Secrets made her feel superior to her neighbors, a curious quirk, given the manifold blessings she had that they did not.) These meetings were not prearranged, but these stolen moments had become Jaime’s favourite part of his week; the more frequently these happy accidents occurred, the more cheerful his disposition became.

Every encounter was exhilarating; never had he felt as if he could talk to someone as freely as he could with Brienne.

At times, they revisited the subject of books.

Jaime had just finished recommending _The Silent Sister_ — the most horrifying and newest Gothic novel straight from King's Landing — when Brienne dryly commented, “Are you sure it was not the thought of silence that scared you?”

That was the day he learned Brienne had the makings of a humourist.

He had been disappointed, however, that she did not wish to borrow his copy; she said that her stepmother did not approve of Gothic fiction and had a habit of destroying improper books. For a woman who held very little scruples about arguing with _him,_ Brienne did appear to worry about playing the part of a dutiful lady for Mrs. Tarth. Jaime wondered if Brienne was afraid of this woman in the same way he had been of his father.

On occasion, they would talk about their individual histories. Jaime had known they shared the same ill-fortune to have lost a mother but had not realized Brienne had lost infinitely more. “My mother died giving birth to my twin sisters, and they soon followed her,” Brienne said haltingly, with the slightest suggestion of tears in her remarkable eyes. “Only a year passed before my brother drowned. My father hired Roelle to serve as my governess but didn’t —” Brienne cut herself off; risking that providing comfort might be more welcome than strictly following propriety, Jaime covered her hand with his own. She did not tremble, nor did she push him away.

Jaime longed to ask about the history between Brienne and the current Mrs. Tarth but could find no delicate way to intrude upon her private affairs. He would wait for her — he always would.

He was more forthcoming with his own story, however, as the days of their private interludes turned into weeks and confirmed that her character was innately trustworthy. Brienne unknowingly held great power over him; all she had to do was look at him with her guileless eyes, and he would be compelled to tell her thoughts he had never before expressed to anyone, even his siblings:

“I had assumed father would outlive me — I wanted to join the army and die in a blaze of glory — and The Rock and its responsibilities would one day pass on to Tyrion. He’s far more intelligent than me, you know. I bet even now he could run the estate far better than me.”

“I do not think that is true,” Brienne said, turning slightly pink at her contradiction, “All of your tenants seem not only prosperous but happy. Even Mrs. Bolton cannot critique your work ethic, and she tries so hard. You are an honourable man.”

Jaime’s thoughts returned to their first unsupervised conversation, where she had defended her fictional ideal. “Am I competition to Ser Barriston Selmy for your affections, my lady?”

Brienne promptly turned red and merely choked out a request for him to _not_ call her that as she was _by no definition a lady_. She could not risk being subject to a single man’s personal endearment, much less a moniker that made it appear as if she had ambitions beyond her station.

He resolved to take every private opportunity he could to do so anyway; antics similar to this were the likely reason Cersei bemoaned the possibility of Jaime ever being able to win Brienne’s hand — and now he firmly knew he would never be happy until he had done so — despite every material point of the match appearing to be in her favour. He rather doubted any man in Westeros could match the young lady’s character; not even the virtuous Ned Stark could claim the moral high ground over Brienne.

If there was one positive development from his bungled attempts at flirtation, it was the news that Cersei and Tyrion had begun to exchange cordial letters; these letters were, admittedly, at his expense, but nevertheless he finally had hope that his siblings might be able to bridge the rift between them. As he had remarked to Brienne one day, Cersei and Tyrion had more in common than they thought, especially as both courted the attentions of the society Jaime eschewed.

The fact that his family now talked of his marriage as if it were to become reality, rather than a preferred daydream, pushed Jaime to confess his sins to Brienne one afternoon.

“I’m not a very pleasant man,” he warned. “I severed all connexions with my family’s closest friends — all my friends. And I did it in such a manner that turned half of Westeros society against me. I’m surprised you have not heard the rumours.”

Brienne’s face heated, as she admitted she had heard whispers but assured him, “I have not listened to them nor has anyone spoken to me privately about the details. No one but you appears to want my companionship.”

Jaime spared only a moment to think that anyone who did not want Brienne’s singular company was particularly stupid. This had its advantages for his selfish nature, however, as he would have to share her with fewer admirers if he managed to make her Mrs. Lannister.

But before he did that, he felt obligated to inform her of his true history, of what he had done a little over a year past: “I challenged my father’s greatest friend and a peer of the realm to a duel — he was thrice my age and my own guest — and I would have aimed true had he not died in the night — they all say the shock of my conduct was the cause. The distress of his young children still haunts me.”

Jaime forced himself to take in Brienne’s face at his revelation. Her neutral expression gave no hint of emotion; she sat in silence for what Jaime felt was an eternity, although only a minute had passed, before she asked, “What did he do to warrant such violence on your part?”

On the one hand, Jaime felt a swell of gratitude and relief that she wished to understand his actions, and — unlike some self-proclaimed honourable men— did not hasten her judgment; on the other hand, Jaime felt nauseous at having to revisit the memories he had locked away in his mind. He resolved to try to explain his conduct, without lessening the harsh truth of his own violent temper and impulsivity. 

“The Targaryens were visiting The Rock, as was custom. The oldest son Rhaegar is only a few years my senior, and he and Cersei appeared to be — well, never mind that. I caught the old lord …. distressing a young woman who works at The Rock. I stepped in; the girl had been burned in her struggle.”

Brienne’s face was pale, and her eyes were wide with horror. He forced himself to continue.

“You might understand a little how whispers work, how easily a reputation is ruined. The girl is an orphan; she had no one to protect her unless I chose to; I could not let her suffer, so I separated her from him and called for Qyburn. I lied for her about how she had received her injuries. But when I heard the extent of the damage, I could no longer contain my anger and knew I could not let him go unpunished. The idea that he may have done this — or worse — before to others in and beyond my care still haunts me. Do I do enough to protect the people under my employee is a question I ask myself every day now; I always feel as though I am a failure. The challenge severed my friendship with my oldest friend; I could not explain my behaviour, so even Cersei was ashamed of me for quite a while. I think she entertained some rather unfortunate suitors afterwards simply to spite me. You may not agree with what I did, but I beg you not to reveal my true motivations for the girl’s sake. Do not make her the source of speculation. Not when Casterly has finally chosen to forgive The Rock, at least superficially.”

A soft breeze cooled Jaime’s heating cheeks as he waited for Brienne to pronounce her judgment; he felt she could understand his motives in a way Cersei could not — he had been tempted to tell his sister in the past but felt she was too governed by certain strictures to admit Jaime’s act was justified; he feared that Cersei would display a callousness toward the household staff that would sever the familial bonds that he had worked so hard to sustain. But Brienne cared for those seen as socially inferior to her — she had worked to help Cersei with the cottages, but she had wanted to go beyond mere moral platitudes, mere ostentatious displays of her own generosity. 

After a moment, Brienne said, “From the moment I met you, you have treated me with nothing but charity. I knew you were honourable — I simply underestimated how much. You’re perhaps the bravest man of my acquaintance.” And with that, she turned red and silent.

Jaime let the silence settle over them for once, feeling more light of heart than he had in any moment since he was sent away to the Citadel. He tamped down the impulse to propose at this moment; a young lady would likely find fault with a gentleman asking such a question after revealing his darkest secrets.

Only once they had gone their separate ways did Jaime realize Brienne had said he treated her with _charity_ ; he could not quite grasp her meaning, but a lingering disquiet remained a shadow over his happiness that she still viewed him as a gentleman rather than the worst sort of scoundrel. 

The rarest conversations of all were when Brienne trusted him with her own secrets.

When Jaime finally worked up the courage to ask Brienne why, the first time he and Cersei had paid her a visit at Evenfall, her stepmother had abruptly ended their conversation on riding.

Brienne blushed then said, “She was afraid I appear too unladylike. I can ride aside properly — I was trained to by proper horse masters, but I prefer to ride astride. The masters would only teach women for a few hours, so I once decided to dress in gentleman’s clothing to be able to attend more lessons. Roelle caught me before I could sneak off and told me that—”

“Told you what?”

“That just because I looked like a man did not mean I could shame my father by dressing like one as well,” she said softly, “It does not matter. I used the same logic when I tried to do it. I know what I look like.”

Brienne’s explanation made Jaime angry about a great many things, but he settled on asking in what he hoped was an even tone, “And your father married that despicable woman?”

“He did not know. I did not want to shame him by explaining what I tried to do, and most of the other incidents between us were hardly worth mentioning. It is not as if anything can be done now.”

She sounded so defeated that Jaime dropped the subject of Mrs. Tarth, “You know, when we were younger, Cersei and I looked even more alike, so we would swap clothes so we could get out of lessons we did not want. That was probably one of the reasons father shipped me off to school at an unnatural age.” 

He was not brave enough at that moment to reveal his own stupidity that necessitated such rigorous academic discipline; she already knew so many of his vulnerabilities. Jaime trusted Brienne, of course he did, but he was unsure if she merely humoured him with these conversations or if he had a chance of winning her heart. Until he solved the mystery of her affections, he could not bear to reveal everything — her rejection would crush his spirits permanently.

Brienne’s face revealed her warring emotions at Jaime’s childhood antics, between amusement and disbelief. She laughed — Jaime felt his heart leap at the sound, proud that he had been able to replace her sadness with merriment. He thought of what Cersei used to wish for as a girl, before she had discovered the thrill of playing her social games and abandoned her less conventional desires, and thought to offer something comparable to Brienne.

“I would race you on horseback,” he said. “You could ride however you like; it would not matter to me. We could even do something more daring, and I could teach you to fence. You have the build to provide me with good competition.”

Her smile fell. He did not know what he had said until she said a moment later, “Yes, I suppose I do.”

Until this conversation, Jaime had not realized quite how much her appearance affected how she saw herself — how at being reminded of her differences, she suddenly turned hesitant. 

Objectively, Jaime knew that Brienne’s eyes were her only aesthetic feature that could be considered universally beautiful. When he had first seen her, before he had fallen under the spell of her eyes, he had momentarily been surprised at her height; he was ashamed he had thought her manlike, even in her ball gown. Her fine eyes certainly illuminated the rest of her person, creating a continuity where there was asymmetry, but as he knew more of her, the more magnificent he believed her to be. He admittedly found the idea that she could quite possibly defeat him in a bout attractive. The simple truth, however, was that he loved her; she was perfect, even in her faults for they separated her from all the other women he had known.

Instead of these sentiments, however, he tried, “Blue is a good color on you, _my lady_. It goes well with your eyes.”

Brienne was now flustered as she looked at her dress — an improvement over morose, “The dressmaker padded out the bodice, to give it that shape.”

She flushed at her bold, yet awkward, words; Jaime felt himself flush for an entirely different reason.

Their meeting that day ended with Jaime still praying for tranquility, as his thoughts had taken a quite inappropriate direction. He once again felt the compulsion to ask her to be his wife but shook off the notion — it would not do to express one’s pure love through the haze of lust. Jeyne Arryn would find such conduct disgraceful, in his view; he would be no better than the rakes that acted only in pursuit of momentary pleasure.

Jaime suspected he would not be the hero of a Jeyne Arryn novel precisely because he kept luring an innocent and virtuous woman into a series of increasingly intimate conversations, but it seemed to him, as a reader, that if Mr. Dayne had bothered to communicate with Miss Elia Bettley as if she were an equal, the hero’s first proposal would not have been so soundly rejected. The idea of having Brienne feel insulted by his proposal haunted Jaime in the dead of night far more often than any of the imagery from his Gothic romances.

As the months passed, he felt brave enough to expand the topics of conversations between himself and Brienne — save the personal subject closest to his heart. Unfortunately, approaching the question of matrimony became more intimidating the more time they spent together.

Strangely, he found he could tell her about the effort it took to run the estate, as he had still not found a proper replacement to fulfill the role of land agent. Some days, an hour of conversation with Brienne was the only break he felt from the relentless grind from dawn until midnight.

He told Brienne about how he had encouraged the farmers to try a new method of crop rotation the previous year that had increased the yield. He also wanted to put a program into place that would give seasonal workers more steady work if they wished; while Brienne did not have experience with the finer points of agriculture, she was a keen listener and was quite interested in the moral arguments behind his decision-making. She did not know, but she had convinced him to avoid investing in several overseas ventures strictly through her passionate arguments. He assumed she had honed her debate skills against her own father, based on the direction her advice took.

As Jaime spent more time with Brienne without formalizing their relationship, Cersei finally revealed she knew of his secret meetings. As with everything, Cersei had an opinion regarding his conduct: “You are an ass! And you criticized Ned Stark’s ability to woo a woman — at the moment Robert Baratheon looks more intelligent than you. If you do not marry her soon, the poor girl’s reputation about town will likely be ruined. At least promise me you will not send her any private letters. You marked her that first night and continue to do so — half of Casterly already thinks you are secretly engaged. ”

Jaime paled at this declaration, particularly as both Tyrion and Aunt Genna, who through unknown means had discovered her nephew’s strong attachment to Miss Tarth, had emphasized how precarious a young girl’s reputation was, as if he was not painfully aware of such realities.

Jaime did not like to think that Brienne needed protection but paradoxically, was happy enough to take up the role as her knight errant. The more he learned about her, the more he recognized that Brienne’s limited connexions, disdainful stepmother, and irresponsibly absentee father meant that she was often left alone. Her solitude was different in kind to his, as he generally isolated himself from all but his family by choice after the Targaryen scandal, but he sensed that he could perhaps understand her better than one might suppose. 

He wanted to marry her more than anything he had previously desired; he simply was unsure if those were her wishes … he did not wish to pressure her into tolerating a marriage with him just because it would satisfy him. Brienne’s good heart might compel her to act for others’ wants over her own; Jaime could not say with certainty that he was the man best suited to provide her with lasting happiness. The marriages he had seen in society more often than not were transactional. 

A week later at breakfast, Cersei once again brought up the subject of Jaime’s cowardice.

“The difference between you and Miss Tarth,” Cersei declared, “Is that you fancy yourself the hero of a novel and she does not believe she could even be in your story.”

(Cersei decided that her best attempts at matchmaking were wasted on Jaime — she would have to refocus her energies on Taena and Mr. Baelish, who had been spending more time with their party at The Rock. She would celebrate someone’s wedding by the end of the year.)

Jaime did not bother responding; he simply left the house with hopes of seeing the person who was the topic of their conversation; perhaps today would the day he could work up the courage to secure her affections (it was not). Jaime confessed to Brienne that he too hated balls, that he never felt comfortable with all the eyes upon them.

“You should be thankful you did not have to wear an awful white gown,” she replied.

“Do you not think I would look well in white?” he teased.

“I think you would look well in anything,” she replied, unthinkingly. Her embarrassment was so great that she hurried home with the excuse she would miss tea; it was still morning.

His disappointment that Brienne cut their conversation short was ameliorated by the realization that she found him handsome. She might not love him as he loved her, but she was at least affected by his presence.

After two days’ time to overcome her embarrassment, Brienne and Jaime continued to meet almost daily; there were only a few limitations in subject matter in regards to their conversations. Jaime began to bring treats from The Rock for them to enjoy as they merrily argued over books or cheerfully discussed philanthropy projects being undertaken across Westeros. 

But the day that altered the pattern they had fallen into was the day Brienne let it slip that a Mr. Hyle Hunt had proposed to her before the Tarths had removed to Evenfall, although Jaime sensed she was holding something back. She did not seem unhappy by the man’s proposal; perhaps she regretted turning him down; what chance did _he_ have against a romantic history with another man? 

Jaime’s emotions overcame him, which led him to spit out a wild accusation, “Did you reject him as some form of game? Are you hoping to lead him on a merry chase to tighten your hold over him? Are you just pretending at modesty?”

While Brienne preferred to weigh her words carefully, her righteous anger — at both Mr. Hunt and Jaime — led her to make, in her mind, an even wilder accusation, “You sound quite jealous.”

He moved closer to her, “I do, don’t I?”

And then, to the surprise of the pair of them, Jaime jerked away as if he had been stung, leapt onto his stead, and rode swiftly away, leaving behind a girl who, despite an attempt at stoicism promptly burst into tears.

Brienne sought to reclaim her composure, attempting to convince herself that she was waiting for Mr. Lannister’s negative reaction; she should have suspected he would either tire of her or one day realize that she was grotesque. She had continued to act rashly for months in meeting with him; she had tried to guard herself from caring for him, from loving him. He had made this impossible — no one treated her with such attention or kindness or respect. After the day he had complimented her gown, she had allowed herself to imagine — just once — that _Jaime_ loved her and what it would be like to not just steal touches or glances but to speak frankly, to be allowed to feel openly. 

Her return to misery would be her own fault, for she had allowed herself to hope for too much, to misinterpret his gestures of friendship as courtship. To hold a private conversation with her away from prying eyes, she supposed, was one matter; to be seen with her in Casterly was quite another; to marry her and be seen with her in King’s Landing was unthinkable. As Roelle had told her time and again, the only attraction she had to tempt a man was her fortune, and The Rock’s coffers hardly needed her dowry. But she had been foolish and allowed herself to yearn for him; but no matter how close their minds when they could speak uninhibited — a luxury she had allowed herself to accept as commonplace — Mr. Lannister would always be so far above her. She would simply have to grow used to being alone again. Miss Lanister had no use for matrimony and she was beautiful — why did Brienne hope for such a thing? — she could simply make herself useful to the community through humility and advocating for community reforms.

When Brienne’s tears finally dried, she resolved she would no longer think of Mr. Lannister; when their families came into contact, she would be polite and nothing else; perhaps she would finally listen to Roelle’s warnings about the impropriety of riding alone. A shadow fell over her, disrupting her thoughts — the shadow belonged to _him_.

“I am excessively sorry for causing you distress,” he began. “I’ve never felt — I mean I — Losing you — I was jealous.”

Brienne used all her courage to whisper a question that she felt might break her, “Why?”

Jaime tried to be brave. He tried to recall the declarations of his favourite novels’ romantic heroes. He failed on both counts but pressed on nonetheless.

“Brienne,” he said, indulging in using her name aloud for the first time, “You must know by now how I love you. Since I looked into your eyes for the first time, you have been the chief object of my interest. — We may have only been acquainted for months, but we know each other, we understand each other. You see me as I am, not the master of a great house, not a means to personal elevation. — I have never had a friend like you. — You once called me an honourable man. If you still think so, believe me when I say you have captivated me. You are lovely; there is no woman like you — there is no one else for me.”

For the second time that day, Brienne was overcome by her feelings and devoted her energy to remaining as calm as possible — surely this was a flight of fancy.

“Brienne,” he said, anxious at her reaction and yet elated at the idea of being able to use her given name, “I know that I am an arrogant fool, and I can be rather irritating, but I would do whatever is in my power to make you happy. We could travel to the seaside — I know you miss it. We could spend our time arguing about novels or animal husbandry or whatever you like. We could find petty ways to subtly cut your stepmother. I believe we could make each other happy. I believe we could complement one another, improve one another. — But no matter your answer, I will always be your friend. — If you return my feelings, say you will be my partner in life.”

As Brienne did return his feelings, Jaime Lannister soon found himself engaged to be married. To his slight disappointment, his betrothed still refused to call him by his first name, but he would have been gratified to know she had long called him Jaime in her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Jaime had a lot of opinions, and this fic will be very, very long because of them when originally it was just going to be a jokey oneshot. 
> 
> Notable Easter Eggs: Jaime's internal description of The Silent Sister is a reference to Northanger Abbey, when Catherine describes Gothic novels; The Silent Sister is my jokey version of The Monk which is just so WEIRD; I guess I still am making Sir Charles Grandison references, despite how little it has influenced my life; any time Jaime or Brienne flush it's because Austen is very obsessed with complexions, especially when there's some romantic attraction there; see also the obsessions over character and who would benefit from marriage; although Jaime does not think much of Mr. Darcy, er Mr. Dayne, he certainly has parallels with the man, as he is not very pleasant and is always thinking about a pair of fine eyes; Austen also makes reference to off-screen duels, especially in Sense and Sensibility; Jaime doesn't say it, but he's definitely thinking of Willoughby when he's thinking of rakes; when Cersei is talking about Brienne's reputation based on Jaime's actions, see how people made assumptions about Marianne in Sense and Sensibility — this is also why she asks him not to send Brienne letters; Mr.Tarth's behavior mirrors Mr. Bennet's; Cersei's comment that Jaime fancies himself the hero of the novel is a reference to Catherine Morland's similar flights of fancy; Cersei's "matchmaking" attempts continue to mirror Harriet and Elton's story from Emma; Jaime's mean-spirited comments on Brienne's refusal of Hunt mirrors some of Mr. Collins's thinking in Pride and Prejudice (sorry Jaime); Jaime's proposal is based on the Austen-style proposal with his own flair; Brienne's dialogue-less acceptance is a reference to Emma's acceptance of Knightley in the novel — Brienne is also a private person and wanted her words to remain between her and Jaime. 
> 
> Next time, there's a misunderstanding and a wedding, not necessarily in that order ...


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei realizes she has made some assumptions, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks everyone for reading, kudoing, recommending, and commenting on this work. It means so much to me that you have all been so kind, especially when it feels like this year will remain relentless. 
> 
> Many of you have been waiting for the events of this chapter since the fic began, and I must say that this is the closest Austen and I overlap, in terms of Emma. For those of you who know the novel and have seen the movie, you will be able to instantly recognize quite a few things, which I will, as always, highlight in the Easter Eggs section. 
> 
> Thanks again to cytara for beta reading this chapter. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Visits were made; permission for the marriage was given; discussions of money and property were had; a licence was purchased; wedding arrangements were overseen by Cersei. 

As most of the population of Casterly and its neighbouring counties held the opinion of Ser Hoster Tully that, frankly, the most astonishing attribute of this announcement was that only Mr. Lannister had waited so long to propose, only three people were surprised by the news of the engagement between Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister: Roelle Tarth, Walda Bolton, and Lysa Tully. 

Brienne’s stepmother had long thought that Mr. Lannister was trifling with her stepdaughter; she assumed that once this had been made clear, Brienne would learn her place and finally be in a state to accept Mr. Hunt’s proposal and quietly exit Casterly’s close-knit circle, removing the girl from her father’s sight and — with time — mind. If Mrs. Tarth lacked the wits to see that Jaime Lannister was not the sort of man to cruelly breach social protocol out of respect for her stepdaughter’s reputation (even if he thought it ridiculously confining and had privately skirted the line), then she at least had enough intelligence to keep these opinions from her husband. 

Mrs. Bolton had also assumed that Mr. Lannister was playing a game, but, unlike Roelle Tarth, was of the opinion that poor Miss Tarth was far too soft-hearted to be marrying into the Lannister family. She wondered aloud to the Frey girls, Mr. Baelish, Mrs. Wolkan, Mrs. Wolkan’s pupils, and _even_ Mr. Edmure Tully at such a match; would Miss Lannister not tear dear Miss Tarth to shreds upon the girl’s first offense; would Mr. Lannister treat his wife with the same coldness he treated the majority of the village?

For Miss Lysa Tully, it was a matter of vanity — if Mr. Lannister had no interest in _her_ (the most eligible woman in the surrounding area, excepting the man’s own sister), why would he be attracted to a lumbering woman who towered over him? Lysa Tully, however, was far less invested in the matter than the older women, as she had begun to see the manifold attractions of the young Mr. Baelish, to the dismay of her father. What Lysa Tully _did not_ know was she had several intentional _and_ unintentional rivals for the septon’s attention.

The much talked of couple fixed a date for the wedding between the end of Tyrion’s school term and the celebration of the Winter Solstice. (For his part, Tyrion was quite willing for his brother to further remove him from the line of inheritance in exchange for no longer having to read Jaime’s pathetic letters that waxed poetic about Miss Tarth and bemoaned his poor attempts at courtship; Cersei had even deigned to write her younger brother to complain of her trials. For once, he felt his sister was justified in her distress, although less justified in claiming credit for the match; it seemed Jaime had somehow managed to bungle his way into matrimony all on his own.)

Winter arrived and, with it, Tyrion and the wedding. Tyrion liked Miss Tarth, even if he did not quite understand his brother’s choice — that Jaime had every advantage in life meant he could have had any of King's Landing’s most eligible, glittering women … or at least a poor but fair woman. But while Tyrion admired his brother — loved his brother for treating him as their father should have — he did not always understand his brother; Jaime’s choice in wife appeared to mirror his choice’s as master of The Rock … risky — with a mind towards charity — and potentially an investment that would not pay worthwhile dividends. 

The youngest Lannister was at least relieved to discover Miss Tarth was wholly unlike Cersei — he had always assumed that if Jaime married, his bride would be as like his sister as possible; he was for once happy to be mistaken. Even so, Tyrion was quite relieved that he had his own plans to make his way in the world, as he suspected that it would not be a year before the combination of Brienne’s gentle spirit and Jaime’s reformist tendencies led to the couple employing the estate’s resources in some philanthropy scheme. He shuddered at the thought of their experiments tarnishing The Rock’s legacy, although soon the matters of the family wealth would no longer be of his immediate concern.

Jaime and Brienne quietly married. At the groom’s request, the bride wore a gown of blue made custom — it made her form appear almost pleasing to the objective eye. The bride’s father smiled proudly as he walked her down the aisle. A traditional sermon was read before vows and rings were exchanged. The register book was properly signed. Wedding attendees gathered at Evenfall for an extravagant wedding breakfast. The quietness of the bride was outmatched by the groom’s exuberance. Snow began to fall toward the end of breakfast and Jaime, for once unable to hide this nervous energy behind his usual mask of pride, insisted that he and Brienne take the carriage to The Rock immediately to ensure they would not be stranded on their wedding day; what went unsaid was neither wished to spend longer than necessary with Mrs. Tarth — who seemed abnormally pleased with herself for a woman who had assumed that a match such as this would never be made and who hated her stepdaughter almost as much as the girl’s new husband loved her.

Momentarily abandoned by the man who had dedicated his life to pleasing their whims, Cersei and Tyrion were at a loss.

“It seems like our fate has been left to the mercies of the weather,” Tyrion said faintly, recognizing his reality had changed.

Cersei had not quite taken into account how Jaime’s shifting priorities would materially affect her — and in her mind, leaving her at Evenfall without personal transport (until the carriage returned) with only Mr. Baelish and _Tyrion_ to shield her from the vulgarities and insipidness of the other guests, was a horror that could have been avoided — worse, poor Taena was abed with a chill and unable to attend the celebration. 

For a moment, Cersei allowed herself to feel as much sentimentality as Jaime would over such a dear creature brought low. When Cersei had visited her friend, Taena’s tiny body had shivered from an invisible touch, her dark hair artfully splayed across the pillows; the glow of the fire had only emphasized the girl’s trials, as the lighting emphasized the pain on her delicate face. Nevertheless, Cersei comforted herself, as this would not be time wasted — she could speak to Mr. Baelish about how his chief object of interest had been confined to the sickroom. Surely, the threat of the young woman’s potential death would force the septon to admit his hidden adoration?

As even the universe did not defy Cersei for long, she soon found herself engaged in conversation with her brother and the septon. She was gratified when Mr. Baelish expressed just enough sensibility over Taena’s condition to show he was a man of feeling without verging on the ridiculous. Yet, he soon moved on from the topic of his beloved to first wish the Lannisters joy on their brother’s marriage; then he enquired over Tyrion’s education; then he asked how she found her new sister. Never had Mr. Baelish’s face expressed more pleasure than at this moment; never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when he next looked at her. 

But he must have been thinking of Taena as they talked of the new Mrs. Lannister’s happiness, for he said with a note feeling, “They always say one wedding brings about another. Perhaps Casterly will have another reason to celebrate in the new year.”

With this parting remark, Mr. Baelish quitted Cersei and Tyrion, leaving her to bask in her triumph. All of her schemes to bring her friend and the septon together — the hints at the ball that Taena had not been asked to dance, the visits at The Rock, the walks to the village where Cersei would contrive to leave the two alone for a moment — were beginning to culminate. The riddle Mr. Baelish had left at The Rock for Taena clearly hinted at affection! 

Cersei supposed she should always matchmake for those she favoured, perhaps she should even try her hand at other activities; whatever she predicted would come true. Tyrion was too young to need her help at the moment, but it frankly might take until he could afford to marry to find an appropriate match.

The fantasies of Cersei’s mind were interrupted by her brother within a few minutes. Tyrion began with —

“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr. Baelish. He has clearly studied the art of manners where ladies are concerned. Did you not see the difference in how he responded to my talk of school and your talk of anything, no matter how vapid?”

“Mr. Baelish’s manners are not perfect,” replied Cersei, choosing to ignore her brother’s insults — she would demonstrate how to be above such pettiness; “but where there is a wish to please, one ought to overlook errors, and one does overlook a great deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will have the advantage over negligent superiority. If cousin Lancel would employ some of the arts you mock, _his_ sermons would be better received in the west. Good-will is quite a blessing to have for a septon. And those he serves benefit from his kindness as well.”

“Yes,” said Tyrion presently, half with slyness, half with amusement, “Mr. Baelish seems to have a great deal of good-will towards you.”

“Me!” she replied with a smile of superiority, for what could Tyrion know about the matters of love? (What she did not know was Tyrion quantifiably had more experience in love, in the general sense, than either her or Jaime; Tyrion had wisely hidden his personal habits on this front from both his siblings, as he wished to avoid their lectures and poor advice.) “Are you imagining me to be Mr. Baelish’s object?”

“As somewhat of an outsider, I sniffed out the possibility almost instantaneously; and if you have not made such a consideration, you should in your future interactions with the man,” he said. “I know we have not talked of it, sister, but if you mean your friend for the man, he will not acquiesce to your wishes. He’s an ambitious sort of fellow and does very little to hide the fact. Miss Merryweather has very little to offer such a man.”

“She is such an amiable and beautiful creature!” Cersei said, “Of all the inhabitants of this village, she deserves to rise above her current station.”

Tyrion was rather stunned by Cersei’s seemingly unselfish interest in a girl who could not possibly repay the Lannisters in social capital, much less anything else. 

When he adjusted to his shock, he decided to give his sister one last warning, even as he doubted she would heed his words, “You do need to consider if Mr. Baelish is trying to court you. If this is against your wishes, you should modify your behaviour accordingly. I say this as a brother and a friend.” 

He also said this as someone who did not wish to be on intimate terms with the septon; a benefit of being dedicated to one’s education was contact with the ridiculous characters that made up Casterly was limited. But there was the future to consider, and Jaime had already chosen a wife with … less than ideal relations. Tyrion hoped for everyone’s sake, Mr. Tarth would not renew the lease at Evenfall, for Jaime could hardly leave his ancestral seat on a permanent basis.

Cersei, disinclined to take advice from anyone especially her much younger brother, bit out, “I thank you; but I assure you that you are quite mistaken. I only see Mr. Baelish as the means for a deserving woman’s elevation. I would hardly consider him a friend if it were not for Taena.”

“Will you at least promise me if I happen to be correct, you will avoid giving yourself cause for regret?”

Cersei sniffed but gave her promise.

The youngest Lannister comforted himself in the knowledge that he had done his best to warn his sister and could see no permanent evil emerging from this ill-fated courtship than a blow to Cersei’s vanity when she discovered the truth. She had too much ambition and self-importance to lower herself to marry a mere man of the faith — any thrill Cersei would receive from unmooring her brothers with such mischief would hardly be balanced by the threat of a lifetime with such a man. Tyrion pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and instead chose to ponder how much wedding cake he would have to eat to feel the effects of the rum.

Large flakes of snow were now falling heavily at this point, and there was much confusion as the guests arranged transportation, trying to account for everyone. Tyrion somehow ended up escorting the Frey girls to their home at the edge of the village, and Mr. Baelish had found the means to end up in the later carriage to accompany Cersei home. The words of her youngest brother rattled unwillingly around in her mind, as the carriage slowly moved toward The Rock. She opened her mouth to again speak of Taena when —

“Miss Lannister—Cersei,” at this breach in conduct, the addressee was filled with anger and dread. “I have long stood silent—I wish to avail myself of this precious opportunity—I adore you, I would be ready to die should you tell me you did not return my attachment—Your beauty is unequal to any creature I have seen—”

This unwelcome speech was interrupted by Miss Lannister’s attempts to stop the septon’s embarrassment, although she did not see why she _should,_ since he deigned to court Miss Cersei Lannister; his family history was far below the Tarths (and at least Brienne had the humility to recognize Jaime’s conduct was extraordinary). If she had rebuffed the advances of the realm’s Ned Starks and Robert Baratheons, what would a man such as Petyr Baelish offer her? He could not believe that she was besotted with him; her manner had been quite cool unless she was speaking of Taena. She felt this folly from Mr. Baelish must be brought on by the overexertion of joyful spirits — although he had never seemed fond of either Jaime or Brienne in their previous encounters; if Taena were here in her place, surely, he would be making the same offer to _her._

“I am very much astonished, Mr. Baelish,” she replied. “This to me! You forget yourself—you take me for my friend—any message to Miss Merryweather I shall be happy to deliver; but no more of this type of speech to me, if you please.”

“Miss Merryweather! I court Miss Merryweather! — I would not care if she lived or died, except for how such a loss would affect _you._ All my energies have been focused upon your pleasure. You cannot believe I would think of such a girl when my world has been illuminated by your presence. — To be connected to the Lannisters! — This declaration cannot be a surprise to you! Your brothers have hinted at their displeasure in the favouritsim you’ve shown me. — And you have persisted in your endeavours! — You cannot, really, seriously, doubt my adoration of you,” he cried.

Cersei was struck silent. On the day of her greatest achievement, her plans for a second success had suddenly evaporated. Worse, she had been placed in connexion with a man whose pursuit of her was clearly for self-aggrandizement and self-aggrandizement only. She was surprised he had not cited her dowry directly, given everything else he had declared. At least in Ned Stark’s corrections, he recognized her character; Mr. Baelish understood nothing of Cersei — if he had, he never would have declared himself in such a manner with a hope of success.

“Cersei,” he began again, causing her to grit her teeth, “allow me to interpret this interesting silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.”

He moved closer to her, and Cersei caught a maniac gleam in his eye, as the carriage jostled the pair slightly. For a moment, he exuded a sort of desperate violence that made her worry, that made her urge the horses to increase their pace, to end their agony. As she sought to put more distance between them, she replied:

“No — it confesses no such thing. I never dreamed you would feel such a way — Nothing could be farther from my wishes—your attachment to my friend Taena —your pursuit of her, for pursuit, it appeared, gave me great pleasure, and I have been very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were not your attraction to The Rock, I should certainly have thought you judged ill in making your visits so frequent.”

Mr. Baelish replied with bitterness, “I need not so totally despair of an equal alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Merryweather!—No, madam, my visits to The Rock have been for yourself only; and the encouragement I received—”

“Encouragement — never! Your own wishes have made you mistaken in mine; I only have seen you as the admirer of my friend. I have no thoughts of matrimony, never.”

Anger on both sides stifled the atmosphere of the carriage; the silence had not long fallen when they arrived at The Rock. Cersei did not wait for aid but removed herself from the carriage and was greeted at the entry of the house by Tyrion. For once, her best efforts to compose herself failed. The red hue of her usually even-toned skin may have been the only physical mark of irritation on her person, but it was enough to hint to Tyrion what had occurred in the miles separating Evenfall from The Rock. There was no sign of Jaime and Brienne, who must have retired to their private rooms. Tyrion opened his mouth to make a joke. Cersei stopped him with a glare — never had her mind been in such perturbation — she could not decide if she were more miserable in the humiliation of her misreading of the social domain, the domain that she should be master of, _or_ the humiliation of attracting the interest of such a man as Mr. Baelish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: I mean, this whole chapter is a direct adaptation from Emma, with revisions according to character and circumstance, as I wanted to emphasize the similarities between certain characters (Emma/Cersei) and (Elton/Baelish) before showing how their fates might change based on their differences from the Austen counterparts ... also Emma's realization that she is not, indeed, the BEST was too funny to pass up; Cersei believing she brought Jaime and Brienne together mirror's Emma's opinions on how she brought the Westons together; the plot of the "snow storm" is taken from the Christmas party in Emma, and yes, Jaime is for sure being a Mr. Woodhouse; Tyrion and Cersei's conversation is a revised version of the conversation between John Knightley and Emma ... I also couldn't resist having Tyrion be right, thus adding to Cersei's angst; "whatever she predicted would come true" is another allusion to Emma; the proposal in the carriage, of course, emerges from Emma; the momentary fear Cersei has of Baelish is an allusion to many other eighteenth-century novels such as Evelina, where the threat of being alone in a carriage with a man was not just an unwanted proposal; Cersei's thoughts on Baelish come from Emma's realizations that Elton is just interested in money; the riddle again is from Emma, but is given more detail in the novel. 
> 
> Next time, Jaime and Brienne are blissfully unaware of Cersei's predicament ....


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne adapt to their change in circumstance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. I'm so glad you enjoyed the comedy of errors that was last chapter, and I hope this one does not disappoint you.
> 
> I finally finished outlining this, and it looks like we'll end up at about forty chapters, and I have the first half drafted.
> 
> Tomorrow Jaime and Brienne Appreciation Week 2020 begins, so there's a possibility I will miss updating next Sunday, but I promise to be back soon.
> 
> Thanks so much to cytara for encouraging me when I first wrote this and affirming some future narrative choices. And thank you so much to jellyb34n, who was so very kind about reading this chapter and offering thoughtful suggestions. I appreciate all of the encouragement both of you gave me on this! 
> 
> As always, I love hearing what you think! Thanks so much for sticking with this story!

Jaime and Brienne Lannister passed their first evening of marriage with no knowledge of what had occurred during Cersei’s fateful carriage ride. This brief respite from the fallout of an event of such emotional magnitude did not mean the newlyweds enjoyed their day in harmony, as they had to learn to live together — quite a departure from shared glances in society and brief clandestine meetings. 

The elation of the groom for the greater part of the day hindered him from noticing the bride was rather quiet through the introduction to the servants, the initial tour of the rooms she had visited previously, and even the journey to the family library. He had plans of a blissful week introducing Brienne to her new home before they were to embark on a visit with Cersei and Tyrion to their Aunt Genna’s townhouse in King’s Landing to perform introductions amongst the Lannisters; Brienne’s small familial circle would now be supplemented with her newer Lannister connexions. He ceased his excitable chatter about the library when Brienne did not respond to his joke at the expense of _Ser Barriston Selmy_ — had one morning of matrimony turned his jokes stale already?

He turned. The new Mrs. Lannister was facing the window, watching the snow, caught in deep thought; she appeared to be slightly defeated.

“Brienne?”

“I am sorry, Jaime,” she said, and despite the ill-omen that the bride was downcast only hours after their marriage, Jaime Lannister thrilled at hearing his name fall casually from her lips for the first time. “Would you mind very much if I asked you an impertinent question?”

He smirked. “You should ask me _all_ of your impertinent questions.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Is the estate in financial trouble?”

As this was not the type of impertinent question, he had desired on his wedding day, he endeavoured to tease his way in that direction.

“I see what has happened,” he quipped. “You have spent too much time with Cersei and now see men as the means to power. But you need not worry, my lady, you did happen to marry a man with a solvent estate, and you do hold power over him. Perhaps to an extent you know not.”

“No!” she cried, ignoring the light tone and taking the comparison to Cersei as a rebuke; she did not wish Jaime to think she had married him for his status. “I just meant — I mean I wondered — If The Rock is not secure, that would explain— Why did you ask father for a larger marriage settlement?”

This direct question, and how Brienne had come to learn of this development since he had been unable to communicate his decisions to her, gave Jaime pause. Jaime had always felt some annoyance at the manners and traditions that were to blame for the rift between himself and Cersei in their definition of ideal womanhood; in his less spiteful moments, he admitted silly girls like Lysa Tully were perhaps made sillier by their education than they would have been otherwise. He recognized he did not know the full extent of Brienne’s history, but she had told him enough that he knew being unable to fit into the model of accomplished young lady tortured her. But until this moment, he had not considered that the private visits with her father after their engagement — visits that determined Brienne’s material future — not only had made her ignorant but also interfered with their own understanding of each other, which at times had appeared effortless.

Jaime had meant to consult Brienne on his financial dealings with her father, but the wedding had left little time for the two of them to meet alone — Cersei had monopolized Brienne’s time with wedding plans, knowing it would frustrate her brother — and he did not trust any important information to a letter with her stepmother in the same residence. He was unsure of what specifically troubled Brienne; the only financial indulgence his wife truly desired, he had noted, was her horse. Her daily clothes hardly had frills comparable to Miss Merryweather’s, much less approaching the fine decoration of Cersei’s gowns. She surely could not be worried that her pin money would suffer from being a Lannister, given how extravagantly Cersei lived. Even when he had offered Brienne a material token of his affection, she had merely flushed and quietly stuttered that his affection was more than she had ever had reason to expect.

He hastily sought to explain his actions, “I would be no better than a mercenary if I took your dowry and poured it into The Rock — If I leave this world before you, I do not want you to face a disadvantage; and I do not know what your father might do for you in the future. I negotiated with him for a larger settlement for you — I will not touch it; it is wholly yours to spend. But do not worry, the estate will produce enough for me to buy you as many boring novels as you wish. Perhaps you might be interested in a copy of _Meribald’s Sermons_ , as I suspect it rivals _Ser Barristan_ ’s obsession with virtue.”

At this speech, a few tears fell from Brienne’s eyes; no one but Jaime cared enough to consider how she might be affected by a situation. She had not been consulted on her father’s marriage; indeed, she had made the discovery through the newspaper. Roelle perhaps had ensured this was the case, but her father had the unfortunate habit of deciding what was best for his daughter and acting without her approval. Jaime’s explanation both grated her — that propriety dictated her future be decided in this way — and comforted her; at least her husband had considered that the consequences of his fate also affected _her._

Jaime continued, “I will not leave you to the charity of our relations, for all of them have shown themselves to be too callous. My whole life, I’ve watched Cersei fight for her independence. You never had the misfortune to meet my father, but he only saw Cersei, even as a child, as a mere pawn. Her only value was in her future marriageability. Watching the person I loved the most suffer from his neglect, from always being trapped in a gilded cage was — I promised to make you happy, and I assure you, you will never be without your independence.”

She felt extremely foolish for why she had asked — Jaime had never treated her like a means to an end. He had never shrank from her touch; he had, in fact, initiated all of their touches and had even seemed overjoyed when she accepted his overtures. He continued to show her time and again how he cared for her, by listening to her, by respecting her. At this reflection, Brienne was unable to stem the flow of her tears, deeply ashamed at listening to the person she trusted least of all over the person she trusted the most.

Jaime pulled her into his arms, before raising his hand to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. She tugged him closer, resting her head on his shoulder, unable to believe this was her new reality. Brienne was unable to pinpoint the last time someone had touched her to provide her with comfort, to show pure affection. The couple stood quietly for a number of minutes, ignoring everything but the heat of each other’s bodies, until Jaime attempted to approach the subject gently:

“Do you mind if I ask why you suddenly had taken a keen interest in the estate, my lady? Do you want me to write to Mr. Marbrand and tell him I’ve decided to take my wife on as land agent instead?”

She shook her head. “Jaime, I’m _still_ not a lady.”

“Brienne.”

“When Roelle cornered me alone this morning she might have implied you were marrying me for my money, and you would soon regret it. The way she described the transaction between you and my father—,” she whispered. “Please believe me when I say I do not doubt your honour nor your love, but her voice has for so long influenced my view of myself and my place that I could not stop thinking—”

Her speech was cut off with a somewhat clumsy kiss by Jaime, who wished to comfort her but did not wish to risk an accidental insult. He suspected that particular danger would linger throughout the entirety of their marriage.

He pulled away, trying to focus on the shadows that haunted Brienne and not the fact that he could now touch her as much as they both wished. Jeyne Arryn’s novels always ended at marriage, with the couples in perfect unity; reality was much different. Although he and Brienne had been fortunate to find time away from prying eyes to better understand the sketch of one another’s characters, they still needed to learn how to live in unity. He did not know how she typically spent the majority of her days, much less her opinions on the topic of children or if she longed for him in the tireless way he did for her.

And while Jaime had been able to confide at least some of his most tender feelings to his siblings and Aunt Genna after the death of his mother, he realized Brienne had learned to internalize as much as she could bear. Her most constant companion had been her governess-turned-stepmother, who was the definition of unsympathetic — she also appeared to be the reason his wife had _not_ enjoyed her wedding celebrations and why he would not be able to conscientiously enjoy his. He most desired for Brienne to confide in him, as he did in her. Brienne thought he was an honourable man, despite his flaws, but he knew she was an honourable woman — she would always guard his back.

Roelle’s voice had haunted Brienne’s thoughts for almost as long as she could remember — the only time it had disappeared had been those mornings and afternoons with Jaime, when he looked at her with a mix of respect and longing. She had known, somehow, he would not hurt her. Brienne gave in to her instincts and decided to trust Jaime with her insecurities. The shaky ground of their courtship, the rules of what was and was not done, and her own self-doubt had made her careful about what she told Jaime before — despite the occasional compulsion that led her to reveal intimate details.

So she took Jaime’s hand, pulled him to the luxurious seat in front of the frosted window, and started to explain in further detail her relationship with Roelle. Brienne’s grief over the loss of the majority of her family, especially her brother Galladon, led her to believe her governess’s claims that she was a worthless child; Brienne’s guilt at not following her brother convinced her of these truths easily. Roelle’s abuse became more pronounced, once it became clear that Brienne would never undergo the transformation that turned gawky girls into fine young ladies. Roelle told Brienne that no one would be able to love her; if Brienne thought to believe otherwise, _the truth is there in your looking glass._

When Brienne had entered society, Roelle had been sure to mention that her large dowry was the only hope a girl such as herself had of making a match. At every turn, Roelle attempted to replace the novels Brienne loved with conduct books, reminding her that romance was rubbish; part of the reason Jaime so often saw Brienne reading outdoors was so she could indulge in fiction without judgment.

In general terms, Roelle had not been kind. She reminded Brienne that most men were experienced in the ways of the world and, having warmed to the subject, the then-governess had spoken at length about the depravities of a man’s nature. These descriptions were followed with a reminder that Brienne must remain the height of propriety — no man would forgive _her_ for poor behaviour, especially not a father whose house had been shamed already by her general demeanour. These warnings increased after Brienne’s ill-conceived attempt at cross-dressing.

Jaime remained quiet, as this was the longest Brienne had spoken in his presence but let his rage at the abuse she had suffered boil beneath his calm exterior. He would treat her as she deserved.

Then she spoke about meeting Hyle Hunt when the Tarths had been visiting Bitterbridge — a subject they had not touched since Jaime’s outburst — who, along with several of his friends, had made a wager at her expense. She did not know, precisely, what their aim was because the titters in the ballroom had swelled and alerted her to the fact that she was the subject of their joke. While the humiliation stung, she was at least grateful that her knowledge of their sport had ended it before it could begin in earnest.

Months after she had returned home, she encountered Mr. Hunt again. Mr. Hunt had appeared to have a change of heart — it was more a change of calculus, as the winner’s purse from the bet was eclipsed by Brienne’s dowry. At no point in his pursuit of her did he feign interest in anything but Brienne’s money. She at least appreciated the man’s honesty; there was no regret in rejecting him, for Mr. Hunt would suffer no injury of the heart, unless disappointment at losing twenty-thousand dragons could be considered such a wound. Quietly, shame-facedly, she told Jaime about the exact words of his proposal and Roelle’s reaction.

Then she fell silent; her courage was spent, for now Jaime knew how truly undesirable she was in the eyes of the rest of Westeros society. She had slept little the night before, preyed upon by nerves that Jaime would change his mind, that Roelle had been right, that Brienne had flirted with immorality and would pay the price. Her confession compounded her fatigue, and she struggled to avoid another overwrought display of emotion. As her husband reflected on these abuses, Brienne grew anxious that she had not been forthcoming about these events before their marriage — she should have given Jaime a chance to relieve himself from such an undesirable match. 

Jaime’s thoughts, however, were in quite another direction. Privately, Jaime promised that if he came across Hyle Hunt, he would do no less than break his nose; his being exiled to Essos over engaging in a duel, however, would likely do Brienne more harm than good. He was not quite sure how to make Brienne’s stepmother suffer without hurting his wife or her father — although he still could not understand how such a doting father could be oblivious to the sufferings of his child, even if he was rather absentee. He suspected Cersei would best know how they might engage such a woman; even if his sister was not always correct in reading the character of others (he should say something to her about Petyr Baelish, he thought offhandedly), she certainly understood how to best torture her guests while maintaining a serene disposition.

But now hearing Brienne’s history, he better understood precisely why she seemed confused by his attempts at courtship; in fact, it seemed she had gone against every instinct to have entertained meeting with him privately.

“Thank you,” he said — when she furrowed her brow he clarified, “For trusting me. I promise you to never let abuse against you go unchecked.”

Brienne was at a loss for a response, so Jaime once more tried to tease her into conversation, “You must have liked me a good deal to have snuck out of Evenfall for a clandestine _tête-à-tête_.”

“Apparently much more than you must have liked me to place me in such compromising positions on a regular basis.”

“And I would have happily married you at any point.”

“Are you saying your courtship strategy was to have us pressured into marriage?”

Jaime turned rather red; he absolutely did _not_ mean to imply such a meanness in conduct. “Of course not,” he cried. “You deserved the most romantic of proposals, although I rather bungled it — I thought of how to ask for months.”

Her skeptical look made him insist, “The Casterly gossips say I was in love with you from the moment we met, so they finally landed on one truth.”

“Jaime, you cannot—”

“Brienne, I have never written poetry for any other woman.”

“And where is this poetry,” she questioned, “for I have not seen it.”

“Tyrion told me that if I truly loved you, to never let you see my tortured verse.”

At this, she finally laughed; he adored her laugh — it reached her eyes and made them sparkle with pleasure. He recalled the first day they had met —misery had been the dominant emotion characterizing her gaze; there was no hint of that now.

He tried to express his admiration for her — without verse, “You’re very strong to have been surrounded by those shits and remained kind.”

Brienne frowned at Jaime’s language but did not rebuke him, as she thought back to her husband’s own history, “I admire you for the same reason. Your father shaped your early years with his values, and yet you used that time as an object lesson to be a better landlord, a better brother, and a better husband.”

“So I have not failed at matrimony already?”

“In one afternoon, you have been far better to me than I had ever been led to expect by my education.”

He smiled and took her hand to pull her towards the shelves. “Every time I saw a book you might like, I bought it for you. I knew you would not accept them, so I put them here for you.”

The corners of her mouth lifted as she saw a new edition of _Ser Barriston Selmy_ , the Jeyne Arryn novel _Resolution_ , and the works of Ser Walder Stark, which she recalled having told Jaime some months ago that Roelle had universally banned, citing the fact that Brienne did not need any other mannish influences.

Jaime grabbed her hand again and led her out of the room towards the most private areas of the house. Brienne had as a matter of course noticed the grandeur of The Rock during her visits; its scarlet and gold color scheme immediately told her of the Lannister family’s wealth; the collection of artwork emphasized the depth and breadth of the family’s aesthetic taste; the chandeliers glittered in the ballroom, whose ceiling had been tastefully decorated by an artist; its sprawling gardens’ landscaping was designed to so perfectly highlight the cerulean lake at its edge. But as she followed Jaime, Brienne took in more statues, more china, more hand carved furniture — Evenfall had been a large house, but this extravagance was unfamiliar and not entirely comfortable.

These half-formed thoughts ceased when Brienne realized Jaime had led them to what was to be her private rooms. She could tell the sitting-room had been redesigned for her; the color scheme and decorative accents all alluded to the seaside; her personal effects, including the garments Cersei had demanded Miss Donyse tailor-make, had been delivered from Evenfall and stored properly in the dressing-room that was now hers. The comfortable but simply accented bedroom she occupied during her time at Evenfall seemed modest in comparison. Jaime’s rooms made up the rest of the private family suite; she had expected these to be decorated in the same style as the majority of the house, perhaps featuring rampant lions, but instead saw that they had been painted an even more startling shade of blue.

As Brienne sought to adjust to this shared intimate setting, Jaime began to fill the silence, an effort she barely noticed until she heard him say, “But if the rooms do not suit your taste, I can have them redone while we are—”

“No, no,” she responded, “They’re beautiful without being ostentatious.”

“Like the rest of the house, you mean?”

Brienne choked on her laughter, unused to the idea her criticism was welcome.

“My ancestors were rather pompous for not having a dukedom of their own,” he admitted. “I am willing to change whatever you like to make you feel more at home—”

“There is no need to waste—”

“Making you happy would never be a waste.”

She smiled, “How do you both express such sentiments and insult me so easily—”

“When have I ever insulted you?”

“You compared me to my horse!”

“That was a compliment!” cried the unfortunate man.

“How?” Brienne laughed.

The lovers shared their mirth as they continued to sit in Jaime’s business-room, not noticing the lateness of the hour, as the sun had already set in the late afternoon. Their conversation was only broken by hunger, but Jaime saw no reason to join the rest of the family for dinner when their meal could be brought up. Jaime thanked the servant before dismissing the staff for the night. Time continued to pass quickly, but even as the clock chimes alerted them to the growing lateness of the evening, Jaime and Brienne continued to exchange stories until exhaustion began to wear upon them.

“I suppose we might retire for the evening,” Jaime began upon realizing his wife’s drooping eyelids, before once again finding himself discomforted by his change in situation. They may now be inextricably bound together through the ties of matrimony, but he only vaguely knew what that meant. He would not use his father for a model in anything; Aunt Genna spent as much time as possible away from her foolish husband; Cersei, not incorrectly in most cases, viewed matrimony as a struggle of wills and a means to consolidate power; and Tyrion’s vulgar jokes over port were many things but instructive was not one of them. Jaime supposed these subjects were discussed among friends, but he had fallen out with Rhaegar Targaryen and the rest had followed. Cersei was his oldest companion, however there were some matters a brother did not wish to discuss with his sister. Brienne was his closest friend, although given her education and the early loss of her mother, he suspected she was just as at sea in this situation, most likely more so. This presumption on his part was confirmed when she made a choked noise in lieu of a verbal reply.

He tried again, hoping he himself was not trying to her, “You’re clearly exhausted. — Beds — Not that I do not — We could share — I propose—”

She began to talk over him, “You may not want —”

“Of course, I want to—I just wonder if— Do you want—”

“I would never cause you distress —”

Brienne ended their cacophony of aborted attempts at speech, by saying with a steely determination brought about by the memory of their earlier kiss, “I will not be remiss in my vows.” This boldness was quickly undermined by a yawn.

That the discomfiture of earlier in the day had returned after their joyful intimacy gave Jaime pause. He kept his gaze on Brienne in the hopes his eyes radiated the sincerity of his words, “I love no one so dearly as I love you, all of you. I confess I have thought of you in a most intimate manner long before we were engaged—”

She turned red at that unseemly profession, but he would not be deterred, “And because you matter more to me than anything else, I cannot in good conscience insist on marital rights when your whole life has been upended — hopefully for the better — with no preamble when you can barely keep your eyes open. We should talk, for I promised you I would make you happy, and I cannot see how I can if we are not equals in all aspects. But perhaps you might consent to spending the night together?”

Rather overwhelmed, Brienne gave her consent, and then followed her husband to her chambers. Although Brienne had expected the fact that she was sharing a bed with a man, admittedly in the most mundane sense, to be the most uncomfortable part of a demanding day, she found this was not the case. As she and Jaime clasped one another’s hands and whispered to each other in the dark, her last conscious thought was that this felt more like home than any place had previously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: It's not really an easter egg, but I DO want to point out to everyone that Regency weddings were ... weird. My favorite note of how awkward these events can be in Pride and Prejudice is that Collins and Charlotte leave for Kent from the church door, sooo; Austen talks a lot about growing connections, but thinking about Brienne's circle increasing reminds me most of Anne Eliot's fate in Persuasion; I'm going to continue my Ser Barriston Selmy/Sir Charles Grandison jokes, despite not having the patience (or the money) to finish Austen's favorite novel; I admit to thinking quite a lot about the financial dealings within The Woman in White (a sensation written much later in the century) when thinking how NOT to handle this plot; thoughts about women's education were inspired not only by Austen but also Rousseau (Emile) and Mary Wollstonecraft, even if not all of that quite translated to the page; Meribald's Sermons are my joking way of referring to Fordyce’s Sermons, which Collins reads in Pride and Prejudice; Austen's "big" novels are all marriage plots; some of language to describe Brienne's abuse at the hand of Roelle was inspired by the early sections of Jane Eyre, for no matter what quarrels I have with the novel, I appreciate how Bronte handles Jane's early childhood; Jaime's poetry might not be the worst, but there was A LOT of bad nineteenth-century poetry, in my opinion; Resolution is, of course, this world's Persuasion; Walder Stark=Walter Scott, who wrote Jane Austen a very nice review; some of The Rock is based upon Emma 2020's Donwell Abbey.
> 
> Next time, we see the morning after perhaps the worst proposal in literary history ...
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime would prefer reality to resemble a novel a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for coming back after my short break. I've finished a draft of chapter twenty-one this morning, so hopefully there won't be too many interruptions in terms of updates.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I appreciate each and every one so much, and having conversations with all of you about Austen and Martin throughout this has been so much fun! 
> 
> I would like to thank cytara and jellyb34n for reading this chapter in advance and giving thoughtful suggestions and encouragement. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy where this goes!!

Jaime would have scoffed at any suggestion the first fortnight of his marriage was disappointing — for while reality disabused him of certain romantic daydreams, he found his imagination had never quite captured what it meant to be able to fall asleep and then wake up next to the person he adored. What Jaime would admit to, and had much to Brienne’s amusement, was that he felt the universe was conspiring against his aims to worship his wife uninterrupted. The first calamity struck the morning after the wedding — the newly married pair woke to the sound of Cersei and Tyrion yelling so loudly their voices carried up from the ground floor. This incident proved to be an ill-omen for Jaime’s hopes.

Upon hurrying through their morning toilette and hastening downstairs at Brienne’s insistence — Jaime’s experience told him that they would be better avoiding whatever had awoken them for as long as possible but he was overruled — the couple became privy to the liberties Petyr Baelish had as he accompanied Cersei home from the wedding breakfast. Tyrion’s self-control was non-existent, and the moment Cersei joined him at the breakfast table, Tyrion began to (rather accurately) guess at what had occurred on that fateful journey; Cersei was incapable of controlling her temper at the prospect of becoming her brother’s jape. Half cross at being unceremoniously denied a peaceful morning, half enraged at Petyr Baelish’s forwardness, Jaime turned his efforts toward consoling his sister, while Brienne scolded Tyrion. If there was to be a saving grace of the irritating social obligations that came alongside matrimony, Jaime thought, it was that his siblings would cease their childish behaviour.

(Jaime would never voice this aloud, as both Cersei and Tyrion would remind him of his own exploits. Privately, he wondered how many days his marriage he could last without his siblings disclosing his romantic ineptitudes to his wife — not that she needed further enlightenment.)

His plans for a blissful week at The Rock evaporated at the breakfast table, as he puzzled over how his honeymoon had become even more of a family affair; all the blame for the chaos that impeded his plans could not be placed on Cersei and Tyrion. Jaime had preemptively thwarted himself by believing he could simultaneously indulge in business and pleasure. The arrival of Mr. Addam Marbrand, who was to serve as The Rock’s new land agent, was certainly expected, but the amount of time Jaime had to devote to explaining his business practices and vision for the future of the estate was not.

Mr. Marbrand had been educated as a solicitor and came with good recommendations, despite having less formal experience than the previous agent. Jaime thought if the man had not unintentionally intruded upon his time with Brienne, he would have been content to spend the hours required discussing tenancy and the accounts with someone who not only understood the business of the estate but felt as passionately about it as Jaime himself. These meetings were ever the more important as the family was set to leave for King’s Landing within a week (after a short postponement, due to the underestimation of the work ahead), but this fact did little to curtail the regret Jaime had at leaving his wife to the mercies of his siblings. Their separate activities kept the couple apart but for the early morning and nights, which were happily spent together in an increasingly intimate nature. He resolved to make their final day together at The Rock an exception to this rule, as he was able to surprise her with a private picnic; they soon retired indoors, however, as the winter cold was not conducive to a lovers’ retreat, no matter how romantic the snowy landscape appeared to be.

Passing the majority of her days with Cersei must have been a truly harrowing experience for Brienne, as that night, sequestered away from the other inhabitants of the manor in their private rooms, she asked, “Have I given you cause to regret marrying me?”

He smiled gently, hazily wishing that one day she would be able to view herself in the same light he did, “I only regret not spiriting you away from Casterly the instant we left the sept as man and wife.”

A disapproving expression manifested on Brienne’s face; he adored it, apart from the fact that he was unable to decipher whether or not she believed him.

“You could not have left The Rock unattended.”

“If Cersei and Tyrion stayed behind, Tyrion could have handled the estate until we returned, and Cersei’s sulking over her failures would have kept her from wrecking too much havoc,” he said, “And if we could have escaped to a secluded —”

“Oh, Jaime,” Brienne sighed, but he could see she was struggling to maintain her dour expression. Jaime was confident that if he could finish verbalizing his fantasy, she would be intrigued enough to forget about whatever was upsetting her.

“Jaime,” she said with a tone that destroyed his hopes of distracting her with precisely how they could reenact Florian and Jonquil.

“Be serious. I am not equipped to run this house the way your sister is —” Jaime opened his mouth to interrupt, but she rushed to finish her thoughts, “I never hosted a dinner or planned a social gathering; I certainly will never know either The Rock or Casterly as the Lannisters do.”

“My sister is snobbish, and her social gatherings are somehow more so,” he said. “Frankly, the only ball I ever half-enjoyed was the one where I met you.”

A surprisingly prescient bout of foresight told Jaime not to mention the parade of young women whose flirtations and overeager parents attempting to trap an independent, wealthy landowner in marriage was what made these past events unbearable. He knew his wife struggled to believe he truly did worship her; reminding her of other women’s interest would only harm his cause.

Instead, he said, “Surely now that we are together, these events might improve. We could include an archery competition in the next party we find ourselves obligated to host. You would clearly win the tournament — I could be your king of love and beauty.”

(Cersei always avoided the fashionable sport because it was one area in which she privately admitted deficiency. She always regretted how perfectly her stance would display her figure, but it was not worth the exposure to mortification.)

He continued, “I know Cersei always focused on trappings of our wealth, but that does not mean you have to follow her example. In fact, many months ago I heard that you thought very little of our charitable efforts.”

At this, Brienne blushed; the amount of times she blushed in his presence had lessened over the course of their first week of marriage — Jaime saw this as a challenge; he supposed this meant he could still fluster his wife without showing her more of the illustrated edition of _Briony Hill_ from the library — a book from which he hoped to take much inspiration in certain matters.

“You certainly have the power to carry out any philanthropic experiment you wish,” he said. “To hear Cersei’s stories, you are well-read on the subject.”

She conceded the point, although she would not claim the title of expert. When she was not reading novels, however, her nose was buried in the latest commission reports and social reform plans. She suspected her financial sense might be greater than her new sister’s, for Brienne admitted that the current Mrs. Tarth’s lessons included household management, whose curriculum focused on moderation and humility.

“Although,” Brienne said bitterly, “the reason she did so was because I needed to be useful to offset my ugliness.”

“You are not a tool, Brienne. I care little for how you will enrich my estate, except by your presence.”

“When you give me compliments such as that, it is hard to believe you are the same man who compared me to a cow after only a few hours acquaintance.”

To Jaime’s great embarrassment, Brienne continued to remind him of the many times he compared his wife to an animal — he had not realized his jokes followed such a pattern. He had not yet decided if his greatest failure was lack of originality or causing his wife confusion on the subject of his affections.

Jaime suspected that if he admitted that comment had been an attempt at flirtation as well as a compliment, he would only reveal his pitiful lack of experience in the ways of love; his deepest fear since Brienne had expressed admiration for his character was that one day she would finally see the foolishness hidden beneath his confident façade. No one else looked at Jaime like he was a knight from the Age of Heroes, and it mattered very little if anyone else did so, as long as he maintained his lady’s favour. But when he was particularly melancholy, he wondered if keeping her love was possible when neither his intelligence nor character could recommend him — only particularly stupid boys were sent to school at the age of six. Brienne’s self-worth, he knew, had taken many a hit from her stepmother and even crueler men, but once she saw herself clearly, surely, she would recognize that, in terms of character, all the gains of their marriage had been on his side. Nevertheless, he _had_ selfishly married her and would selfishly do everything he could to secure her affections for the rest of their lives. Tywin Lannister had raised his children to be selfish and cruel, to hoard every dragon, to show no mercy to their tenants, to turn love itself into a commodity to be given and withheld in turns … and perhaps Jaime had, despite his struggles, retained these characteristics — but he knew Brienne could counter his worst impulses, for she had no issues in schooling him on any subject. This happy deliberation allowed him to regain some amount of confidence, and the further reflection that if he told Brienne this, she would remark the occasional bout of humility would improve his character, shook him from his brooding.

He grinned, always eager to spar with her in _any_ manner, and said, “If you deem me a rather foolish man, then how do you judge yourself, as the woman who freely chose to marry him?”

If Brienne was momentarily flummoxed by Jaime’s verbal parry, she did not show it but instead chose to implement an unexpected tactic: boldness, as she moved towards him.

“I would say she must love you quite more than sense would allow.”

The combination of her words and affectionate expression — an expression which made her eyes even more beautiful than usual — secured Jaime’s surrender to her charms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Some of the social obligations of marriage Jaime is thinking of is dealing with wedding visits ... Cersei of all people will be serene in company; Jaime apparently wants to take a leaf from Mr. Collins's book in ditching his wedding as fast as possible ... but he has more romantic visions in his mind; Jaime has a bit of a Darcy mindset about balls, although he's far more extroverted than Austen's most famous hero; archery really was a sport that woman participated in during the nineteenth century; Briony Hill is a reference to Fanny Hill the eighteenth-century erotic novel ... I won't say that this is the last time I'm going to make that joke; far too many nineteenth-century novels compare women to tools or talk about their utility (see how Jane Eyre feels St. John is treating her), and I definitely roll my eyes any time I have to read it; Jaime's reflections on his selfish turns are inspired by how Darcy talks about his upbringing, although the Darcys were definitely not the Lannisters.
> 
> Next time: Cersei does not blow up a sept. But that doesn't mean she doesn't have plans ....
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, kudoing, and commenting!! I love to hear what you think!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei finds a use for Mr. Baelish's old riddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your supportive comments, kudos, and for just reading!! 
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara for her feedback and, in particular, assuring me on this chapter.
> 
> We finally see what Cersei has been thinking and feeling while Jaime and Brienne have been cute; the events partially take place concurrently with the previous chapter.

No matter what trials she endured, Cersei Lannister would always remain confident in her intrinsic value. If her brothers insisted upon laughing at her misfortunes, then she would learn to endure their lack of feeling. Cersei reminded herself that she must be grateful — her good-sister was a physical reminder that so few people had her talents, much less beauty. Shepherding poor Brienne into her new life reminded Cersei that _she_ was necessary to preserving the legacy of The Rock and the lively social world of Casterly, as if Jaime and his wife had _their_ way, they would probably shut themselves off from the world — in all likelihood to gawk at each other and reenact scenes from domestic novels. That she and Tyrion might have more in common now in their rejection of this horrific sentimentality frightened her.

But as the mythical Targaryens of old could walk through fire unburnt, Cersei would also arise to meet the challenges before her. It was clear to her that educating Brienne in the mores and manners necessary to be a Lannister would take quite a good deal of effort; she would allow the newlyweds time to bask in their ardor before moving forward. Unfortunately, less hopeful projects were to fill her days until the family’s departure. Breaking the news to Taena that Mr. Baelish was a less than worthy suitor was her first order of business; Cersei did not know if she feared admitting her fault in judgment or breaking her dear companion’s heart more. Her second task was much more agreeable: she would see to Baelish’s removal from the county; it would not do to be reminded of her humiliation at every visit to the sept.

To demonstrate her self-chastisement, Cersei chose to forego the carriage and walk to Mrs. Wolkan’s school so that she might confess to Taena in person. This blow to Taena was also a blow to Cersei herself, as she was unsure of the steps now necessary to secure her position in society. When Cersei’s thoughts drifted to the idea that her dearest friend might once again consider the _farmer_ , she shuddered in horror at such separation. Where else would she find such a submissive and humble friend? Who else depended upon her advice and forethought in such a meek and grateful manner? What other creature in Casterly would offset Cersei’s own golden beauty with her complementary features — even Mrs. Bolton could not deny how well they looked together — and pleasing air? Whose dark eyes could be more enchanting, as she rhapsodized over Cersei’s dancing or playing?

These musings occupied her thoughts until she arrived at Taena’s bedside. While the girl had mostly recovered from her illness, she looked unnaturally frail and delicate against the stark sheets.

“Oh, Miss Lannister,” Taena said weakly — although it was clear to Cersei that the darling’s spirits had lifted at this visit, “it is so kind of you to come.”

As she fussed over Taena’s state, it occurred to Cersei no one else recognized her kindness. Even the poor families Cersei had deigned to visit now tended to prefer Brienne, awkward manners notwithstanding. Both Jaime and Casterly’s affections were now divided between the Lannister women, and Cersei suspected her brother’s indulgences for his siblings now had a limit; internally, Cersei admitted that if _she_ were to marry, she would expect no less affection from her husband. Given the unlikelihood of that event, however, Cersei once again resolved to devote herself to the enrichment of her protégé.

Cersei rejected her fears of rejection — Taena would no longer see her as an enthralling benefactor once she confessed — and recounted to her friend the events of the harrowing carriage ride to The Rock. The tragedy of this event was not merely that Cersei had to gaze upon her friend as she sagged under the weight of disappointed hopes but that Taena also accepted such a truth so readily.

As Taena’s tears artfully fell, Cersei once again vocalized her regret.

“I do not blame you, Miss Lannister,” Taena said, as she attempted to regain her composure. “Only such a partial friend as you could ever imagine such an attachment. — I could nev —never have deserved such a man.” At this, the girl’s sobs overcame her struggle for dignity.

To see Taena brought so low steeled Cersei’s resolve to ensure Baelish would never prey upon her trusting and sweet-tempered friend again.

As she soothed her companion, Cersei cried, “Of course you could never have deserved a man such as he! You deserve far more than a septon focused on mere self-aggrandisement!”

(Cersei did not see her own hypocrisy, for she had merely viewed Baelish as a means of aggrandisement for Taena.)

Fretting over how she would face Baelish after this humiliation had reawakened Taena’s illness. Soon after Cersei was able to coax the girl into rest, she left to consider just how she would ensure Mr. Baelish’s presence — for she could see now the pettiness of the man — would distress Taena no further.

Her walk back to The Rock allowed her to meditate on what way to best ensure Baelish would do no further harm. Only a year ago, she could have relied on Jaime — in fact, she suspected a year ago Jaime would have sought Baelish’s removal from the county the moment he heard about the unwarranted and unwanted proposal. Now he seemed unbothered by this insult to the Lannisters, and simply devoted to _Brienne_ and her whims. Brienne was far more sympathetic towards Cersei’s plight than either Jaime or Tyrion, but the new Mrs. Lannister also had a soft heart and was far too innocent to help Cersei in her schemes. Directly after his daughter’s marriage, Mr. Tarth had embarked on a trip to Bitterbridge, and therefore had inadvertently removed himself from being drawn into Cersei’s web of manipulations.

The only other man with the power to instigate Baelish’s demise through the High Septon was Ser Hoster Tully — the question was how to motivate the man to act. This troubled Cersei throughout the rest of her day, as she endeavoured to engage Brienne all manner of ladylike activities; Jaime’s marriage was more trying for Cersei than she had previously would have suspected, but she would be the martyr for her brother’s sake — this resignation toward virtue rewarded Cersei with illumination. Ser Hoster cared for his family; it was no secret the man wished for his children to marry well; Mr. Baelish would be far below the man’s standards; Lysa Tully had shown interest in the man. All Cersei had to do was find a way to convince Ser Hoster a threat of an elopement — or worse — was eminent. How to do this without implicating herself was the conundrum that followed her until a family dinner, a few days after Mr. Addam Marbrand had taken up residency in Casterly.

Jaime was once again droning on and on about the tenants; since Brienne and Tyrion’s arrival to the house he had received proper encouragement. “Marbrand is a very fine fellow,” Jaime declared, which was the first time Cersei had heard her brother praise another man’s skills in years. “I make it a habit to ignore the advice of our neighbours, but Tully truly had the right of it.”

Brienne’s raptures and Tyrion’s critiques did not concern Cersei; decisions were to be made.

“Jaime,” she interrupted, “if you think this Mr. Marbrand is worthy company, a day should be fixed to invite him to dinner, so we can know him.”

All three of her companions sat momentarily in shocked silence — Cersei was gratified by her ability to surprise, as this proved she remained a master strategist. Even Westeros’s greatest commanders had made tactical errors in battle, after all.

“You … you wish to invite our new land agent to dinner?” Tyrion asked slowly. “And you wish to be present?”

“That is a splendid idea,” Brienne said, before Tyrion could further question Cersei’s motives. “I wish I had thought of this myself. You are so kind.”

Jaime’s sudden coughing fit thoroughly distracted the party, but the day after, the Lannisters were informed they should expect a guest for dinner on the morrow.

Preparations had to be made to lay her groundwork, then, so Cersei wrenched herself away from Brienne’s company, leaving the poor girl with no guide for the day. The trials of her efforts of sorting through discarded riddles and then writing several letters in a style far bolder than her own made her long for companionship, but Cersei understood that no good deed was without its sacrifices.

She was still unsure of how to proceed, but dinner with Mr. Marbrand — a true sacrifice, as she must lower herself to dine with the help — would reveal all. The man would obviously be interested in her, as she would be the most enthralling person at the table; in her experience, only one man had ever found her wanting and had still been captivated by her — she should have kept her charms in mind when acting as Taena’s benefactor.

While Cersei thought too well of herself on too often an occasion, her prediction that Mr. Marbrand was taken in by her pleasing demeanour and figure was _not_ incorrect. Her radiance, while somewhat superficial, could glow inhibited for new acquaintances, as it was not darkened by the character flaws a longer connexion would reveal.

(The rest of the Lannisters were rather stunned by Cersei’s pleasing behaviour, as she somehow had managed to exude both sweetness and innocence. Tyrion suspected she was trying to charm the man, so that she would be able to gain information about Jaime’s plans for the estate — he gave her too much ambition in the wrong direction. Jaime, finally understanding her affinity for matchmaking, wondered if Cersei hoped to marry Taena off to the man after overcoming some of her condescension. Brienne believed Cersei wished to support her brother’s endeavours in the estate; if Tyrion assigned too much ambition to his sister, then Jaime and Brienne believed her motives to be _too_ pure.)

When Cersei inquired about his connexion with the Tully family, Mr. Marbrand was happy to oblige her.

“Admiral Tully and my father served together in the navy, although my father has not left this shore in many years after taking over the family estate — not that it is an estate in comparison to your home of course. The admiral made my qualifications known to Ser Hoster, but he’s quite happy with his current —”

“And it seems we have gained on his loss,” Cersei finished, smiling.

What other choice did the man have but to be charmed?

Jaime’s teasing the next morning assured Cersei of her success, “Marbrand was in raptures over you, sister. I believe he described your kindness as only equaled by your grace. Either you have become quite clumsy in enacting your snobbery or your more charitable nature has emerged after twenty-five long years.”

As a lady of dignity, Cersei held her composure, “Or perhaps Mr. Marbrand’s nature brings out a goodness in my own _yours_ does not.”

“Then I am happy to report that your good nature will have a chance to flourish without my presence today. I’m surprising Brienne with a picnic as an apology for subjecting her to the Lannisters.”

“Surely you do not mean your darling siblings.”

“I wish you would put your mischief to good use and determine a means for us to escape Aunt Genna.”

“Brienne can suffer through Aunt Genna, as you’ve suffered through far too many encounters with Mrs. Tarth.”

Jaime frowned, “I would not wish your wrath on anyone, except perhaps that horrid woman.”

Cersei decided to take that as permission to what she willed when the occasion called for it.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to spend the day buried in ledgers before we set off.”

“Happily, Marbrand is doing a survey of the lands today. And as you like to remind me, the Lannisters are the only ones capable of intimately knowing the estate, so I will put my superior knowledge to use and enjoy the day with my wife.”

It took all of Cersei’s energy to look displeased when she felt such elation.

After the house had emptied, Cersei gathered her forged letters, put on her most striking riding habit, and took to horseback in hopes of happening upon her prey. She welcomed the sun and wind, as they roughened her appearance. When she saw a figure in the distance, Cersei summoned false tears to her eyes — she would be like a heroine in one of Jaime’s dreadful books, governed solely by her instincts.

“Good morning, Miss Lannis—” Mr. Marbrand’s voice gave her cause to look upwards; her chin was tilted at such an angle to display the tear tracks on her cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. She was forlorn; she was a damsel in need of rescue.

“Miss Lannister?” he asked softly. “Are you in distress?”

She remained demur — she protested — she was so sorry for intruding upon him in such an accidental and improper manner! — she was truly embarrassed by her conduct! — she thanked him for being a true friend — how she wished she could confide in him but could not bear his judgment! — he must swear to keep her confidence — she showed him letters from Mr. Baelish (who was supposed to be an example of chastity and virtue to the community) to Miss Lysa Tully … such horrid letters; she could not say how she came into possession of them — Cersei could not infer the meaning of some — as a neighbour to the Tullys, she wished to protect Lysa — but how could she without exposing Lysa to ruin? — she feared her brothers would not handle the matter delicately, given Jaime’s history and Tyrion’s youth — perhaps Mr. Marbrand, a man of culture and judgment, could understand better than she.

The effort of the conversation took its toll, and once again tears began to fall from Cersei’s eyes.

“Do not worry, Miss Lannister. I will find a way of warning Ser Hoster, I believe he wished to take his family to King’s Landing for greater variety in society, which should remove Miss Lysa from immediate danger,” he said. “I will ensure the Lannister name stays out of this business.”

Her gratefulness shined in her eyes — it shined even more brightly the next morning as Mr. Marbrand bid the Lannister family adieu at The Rock. Cersei allowed herself a triumphant smile as the carriage began its sixteen-mile journey towards King’s Landing; she expected Casterly would look quite different upon her return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Cersei takes a big turn and moves more from Emma scheming into Lady Susan scheming ... perhaps she's in her own league, really; if you think Cersei is performing some unladylike behaviors, well, it's all part of her being (slightly) unhinged; the remark on blows to Taena being blows for Cersei isn't just to demonstrate their closeness, it's also an allusion to Mr. Elton and Mrs. Elton being a dick to Harriet to also snub Emma; the unnamed farmer from the prologue is a stand-in for Mr. Martin; Taena is definitely parallel to Harriet in this chapter, especially as she and Cersei receive some of Harriet and Emma's lines, adapted; Ser Hoster is in the background, but I look at him as a man with the standing of Sir William Lucas from Pride and Prejudice with the personality of Sir Walter Elliot from Persuasion, it would amuse me because Sir Walter would be insulted by the association; the riddles Cersei uses were mentioned previously in chapters five and seven, based on the subplot from Emma; Cersei is still a bit bitter over Mr. Knightley, er, Mr. Stark's critiques; the true slow burn of this story is what the Lannisters will or will not do to Roelle, probably; Cersei is absolutely the Jenye Arryn equivalent of channeling Marianne Dashwood at the conclusion of this chapter; I DO NOT care about geography, really, but the one thing that is important is that Casterly is sixteen miles away from King's Landing the same as Highbury from London. 
> 
> Next time: Brienne meets (more) of the Lannister family.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lannisters visit King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much to everyone for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for her awesome beta work and assurances on this chapter.
> 
> I hope all of you are doing well!

Brienne Lannister, despite her best attempts, was finding her spirits overwhelmed by her change in position. The feelings that threatened to overtake her were not wholly negative — in fact, the past fortnight had been a blur of happiness she had not felt since her early childhood; nevertheless, being a _Lannister_ required certain obligations. Brienne’s anxiety threatened to paralyze her on a daily basis, but she drew upon all of her sense and fortitude to make an effort for Jaime’s sake.

The trip to King’s Landing had taken mere hours, and Brienne was soon liberated from being confined in such a small space with a pride of Lannisters, only to find herself introduced to the most fearsome member of the family yet. Lady Genna Frey — a rather boisterous woman whose emphatic nature was perfectly counterbalanced by her shrewdness — graciously welcomed her guests, yet Brienne could feel the keen judgment in the woman’s eyes at her new niece’s every action. Brienne was unsettled by her inability to deduce whether she passed Lady Genna’s expectations. By the evening meal, Brienne assumed she had not breached propriety too terribly based on the conversation between the family.

“Did uncle and my cousins not want to meet Brienne, aunt?” Jaime asked petulantly.

“I saw no reason to punish your bride by having her suffer their company,” Lady Genna replied.

“Cleos would hardly be noticed,” Tyrion said. “He would probably hide behind his newspaper and silently pray for peace.”

“When has anyone tied to the Lannisters ever had a day of peace in their life?” Jaime asked before turning towards Brienne, “Apologies for not warning you before we wed.”

Lady Genna sighed at her nephews and then, to Brienne’s great relief, spent the majority of the meal quizzing Jaime on The Rock’s new land agent. The evening perhaps would have passed peacefully — proving Jaime wrong — had not Tyrion felt the need to vex his sister.

“Mr. Marbrand must be very _well equipped for the job indeed_ ,” Tyrion said. “As Cersei insisted we invite the man to dinner and was _unnaturally_ polite.”

Cersei’s cheeks had turned slightly pink with embarrassment; Brienne was unsure of the cause but wished to help her good-sister; unfortunately, her slowness in wit prevented her from providing timely aid, and the meal soon degenerated into an exchange of sarcastic barbs betwixt the siblings.

She caught Lady Genna’s eye; the expression of bemusement on the woman’s face mirrored Brienne’s internal feelings. Brienne sighed, turned her eyes upon her husband as he opened his mouth to produce a devastating blow to his sister, and tried to express her disappointment through a singular look — the resulting silence was gratifying.

Lady Genna turned towards Brienne, “Is this experience commonplace at The Rock’s table?”

“I would prefer not to answer, my lady.”

Lady Genna smiled at Brienne, before turning the full power of gaze on the Lannister siblings, “Jaime, you are the head of our house — you should take cues from your wife in how to carry yourself. — For someone so concerned with family dignity, Cersei, you are setting a rather poor example. — Tyrion, do I need to better oversee your education as if you were a child or are you planning to act like a young man?”

Brienne had to hold in her laughter at the forlorn faces of her husband and his siblings at their aunt’s chastisement.

She had laughed every day since she married Jaime; mediating on that fact never made it less surreal.

Jaime and Brienne had been housed in comfortable and ornate apartments; the grandeur that now continually surrounded Brienne gave her a sense of unease — she both felt out of place amongst such finery and wondered at it being put to better use. She had little time to contemplate the décor, however, as her husband claimed her attentions once they were alone.

Nothing notable occurred over the course of the first week in King's Landing; Brienne shared her husband’s view that they were fortunate to have avoided a spring visit and, thus, many unpleasant evenings at stifling social events. A few visits to the shops was nothing in comparison to _that_. Cersei obsessively asked after her letters, desirous for news of Casterly from Taena. Tyrion appeared to keep far stranger hours in town than at home; Brienne did not wish to understand his activities — she doubted she would approve of anything that required a man to return home in the early hours of the morning. Jaime refused to be parted from Brienne for the majority of their visit, demanding that he receive the reward of her company for his labours at The Rock.

Relieved though she was that the Lannisters had not subjected her to any social engagements outside their own circle, it appeared odd to Brienne that so wealthy a family received so few invitations and calls.

When she puzzled over it aloud one evening after they retired, Jaime apprehensively answered, “I’m afraid Cersei and I have made one too many enemies amongst our own circle. We’ve rejected permanent connexions with far too many of them, although they probably believe themselves fortunate after the rumours about my character spread.”

“If your friends would abandon you without question, they are not worthy of you,” she replied; 

Brienne knew this was a poor attempt at comfort — she had not received any kind caresses or words in memory. There was no material example of caretaking for her to emulate, as those who had taken responsibility for her welfare had either been absent or, worse, cold. This inability to instinctually divine how alleviate her husband’s pains was, in her mind, yet another way she failed at being a proper woman.

Jaime pulled her closer to him and held her firmly, “I’ve never had a friend and confidant like _you_.”

“Bigamy is against the law,” she said dryly. “I hope a man of your station would know that.”

He smiled. “That is quite the risqué joke, for you.”

“Perhaps I have spent too much time in your company.”

“I happen to think you do not spend _enough_ time in my company.”

“That is because you are spoiled.”

“I think when you chastised me for the first time is when I decided you were the most fascinating woman I had ever met.”

She flushed; the sensations Jaime stirred in her were yet another reason she tended to be overwhelmed now. “And I suppose you would like me to believe that is also when you fell in love with me?”

“Of course not.” Perhaps he had more sense than sensibility. “It was the moment your gaze met mine.” Alas, he did not.

“Jaime —”

“The real question is when _you_ fell in love with me.”

That gave her pause. She did not want to disappoint him with a poor answer — she knew how much her husband romanticized novels of courtship and love. But while he was capable of great speeches and grand gestures, even if they occasionally went awry, she could merely offer her quiet devotion.

“That first night I was grateful to you for treating me so kindly. No man has ever given me the consideration you have — not even my own father. I cannot say when my feelings began to take the shape of love, for I did not let myself believe you could seriously consider pursuing me,” Brienne paused in embarrassment. Although his marriage was new, Jaime had nevertheless learned to channel all of his patience when Brienne needed to search for words that she would feel comfortable speaking aloud. 

“I don’t mean to impinge upon your honour; you know how I admire you —” At this, Jaime preened. “It just went against almost two decades of my education to believe you could lower yourself to marry me —”

“Lower myself? I’ll have you know —” (His patience had its limits; those limits involved anyone insulting his wife, especially his wife.)

“Jaime,” she said firmly. “You need to let me make sense of my own feelings. I understand you love me, and I will never take that gift for granted. But I accepted any adoration I developed for you would never be returned. I finally admitted I loved you once you told me about Lord Targaryen—”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “You realized nothing I could do would scare you away.”

“I realized how selfless you are.”

Jaime appeared to be slightly flushed, he was slightly awestruck into silence; he simply held her tighter. They did not speak for a long time.

When the fire had died low and Brienne was drifting off to sleep, Jaime finally asked, “But if you thought matrimony was an impossible end for us, why did you keep our clandestine meetings?”

“You make them sound far more illicit than they were.”

“Brienne —”

“I suppose the pleasure of your company far outweighed the potential pain.”

Jaime grinned. Brienne’s honest replies, in his mind at least, far outweighed flowery romantic speeches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Sixteen miles could be quite the awkward carriage ride, depending on your companions; Tyrion's description of Cleos is based on Mr. Palmer from Sense and Sensibility, and yes, I was particularly thinking of Hugh Laurie's portrayal; for these King's Landing chapters, I have thought of Sense and Sensibility a good deal, as Elinor and Marianne travel to London; Brienne, unfortunately, has internalized some ideas about "proper" womanhood, which after the Coventry Patmore poem published later in the century, might be termed "angel of the house;" there are far too many eighteenth and nineteenth-century bigamy plots, but I will not be emulating their example beyond this joke; Brienne's explanation of how she fell for Jaime might partially parallel the famous, "I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun" speech.
> 
> Next time, Jaime sulks over having to socialize.
> 
> As always, I'd love to know what you think! Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Jaime's displeasure, there is a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, as always, for coming back. I'm a little behind on comments, but I appreciate everyone's encouragement. I cannot express how much it means to me that you all read, leave kudos, and comments on this! 
> 
> As always, thanks so much to cytara and jellyb34n for your feedback on this work and your cheerleading.
> 
> And one final note: I don't think I will, but I might take a short break starting next week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It was too much to have hoped, Jaime supposed, that he would escape all dinner parties during the Lannisters’ visit to King's Landing. An invitation to a supposedly intimate gathering a few days before their departure from town arrived from Lady Olenna Tyrell.

“ _She_ would have us to dinner,” Cersei had reasoned over breakfast. “She wants to see the new Mrs. Lannister, so she can lord the knowledge over all of society.”

“You, of course, understand this because you would make a similar move, if you had the power,” Tyrion replied.

Cersei was so insulted, she refused to speak to anyone but Brienne until the meal was over; Jaime was rather gratified that his wife took his sister’s part so often — his judgment that Brienne would cherish his family as he did had been correct.

For the sake of everyone attending this party, he prayed that Miss Margaery Tyrell was _not_ present. The last time his sister and Lady Olenna’s granddaughter had been asked to entertain guests with their playing, the guests had been held hostage to a musical duel. It had taken all of his cleverness to avoid insulting either lady when they demanded he judge whose talent had shined the brightest (particularly when he found the fact that his sister was competing with a girl almost ten years her junior rather embarrassing on the part of everyone present), until Miss Elia Martell had played and outshone both. But _now_ he had Brienne; she would guard him against the machinations of society darlings.

The day of the party he voiced his distress to his wife through a simple declaration, “We should have eloped.”

“You never presented this plan to me when it mattered,” she replied, with a hint of exasperation.

The idea of passing through unfamiliar circles had put his wife on edge, while he felt rather the opposite: he was afraid of what old acquaintances he might encounter. These thoughts had the effect of making him maudlin; neither Lannister was good company for the rest of the afternoon.

“I hope you cease this childish behaviour for your wife’s sake,” his aunt said. “You would not want anyone to believe you have made a hasty and ill-thought marriage.”

He was always capable of maintaining a façade of superiority in even the most hostile situation; at least this time it would be easy to feel superior in his choice of wife. His aunt discovered Mr. Oberyn and Miss Elia Martell would be in attendance, which made Jaime anticipate the party with hope that Brienne might find a suitable companion in the sister and dread the brother might catch her interest, or, worse that she might catch _his_.

As they followed a servant to be admitted to that formidable lady’s presence, Brienne nervously clung to Jaime’s arm, while he tried to soothe her in soft tones. He knew Brienne’s experiences in society prior to meeting him were unpleasant at best and horrifying at worst, but he had every confidence that between Cersei and Aunt Genna the new Mrs. Lannister would be respected; Lannister pride would prevent them from allowing otherwise.

Lady Olenna Tyrell may have been a slight woman, but no one would dare call her frail, as the determination reflected upon her countenance was of such power that all in her presence — even Brienne — felt as if the lady loomed over them. When Lady Olenna spoke, she kept her voice purposefully low to force her listeners to honour her with their full attention, and the natural result was that every syllable was treated as if it had great meaning.

Their hostess’s party appeared to be collected as if the intent in mind was to produce the most amusement for a spectator — in addition to the five Lannisters and the Martells, the remaining members consisted, unfortunately, of Miss Margaery Tyrell (he prayed Cersei would chose to cut rather than engage the girl), Mr. Brandon Stark (the man was more dull than his brother), and Lord Rhaegar Targaryen (Jaime felt rather ill).

Reading Brienne’s startled expression, which remained fixed throughout dinner, Jaime supposed she had never seen so grand a table. If the Tyrell and Lannister families had any superficial trait in common, it was their ability to produce such grandiose affairs. He could not be too unjust toward the mistress of the house, however, as she had declared his wife singular in an approving tone, which had thus assured the rest of her guests would be guided by her kindness to Brienne.

When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room — not without Jaime sending a glance of regret toward his wife, who pitied his awkward position but had no power to save him from it — the gentleman were left to their port and freedom of conversation. Jaime idly wondered if Rhaegar planned to shoot him — it would be vastly preferable to another political debate, no matter how proud he was of Tyrion’s ability to shew up everyone present.

But Rhaegar paid Jaime little attention; it was almost as if they had never met — Rhaegar looked vacantly through the Lannisters as if they were mere specks. Jaime refused to feel an injury at this occurrence and chose to remind himself of how Rhaegar had always been interested in the far loftier aspects of life; these did not require standard civilities. 

And, fortunately, he was allowed to sulk in silence over his temporary separation from his wife; _unfortunately,_ he was forced to feign interest in Stark and Rhaegar’s conversation.

“My hearty congratulations to you on your engagement, sir,” Mr. Stark said to the young lord. “Not everyone can snare such a prize as Miss Martell.”

Rhaegar’s reply was as bland as the expression on his face; Jaime did not know Miss Martell well, but on the rare occasion they encountered one another in King’s Landing society, he had thought her to be a rather sweet — if fragile — lady. Now knowing himself what it was like to be cherished by one’s partner, he regretted that such a gentle soul had made a match unworthy of her. For a man who could not publicly declare his admiration for his betrothed was not fit for the state of matrimony. Perhaps he would anonymously send Rhaegar some Arryn novels, as a means to bring the man’s deficiencies to light. Brienne might not find the novels romantic, but even she could not disagree that their heroes boasted of men who paid the heroines proper courtesy. 

From the look on Oberyn Martell’s face, he shared Jaime’s sentiments. How odd was this unity in thought!

“They say one wedding begets another,” Stark continued, as if Rhaegar had not spoken, “And I think that little Lyanna might soon be engaged to Robert Baratheon.”

For a family that prided itself on honour and appropriate conduct, Brandon Stark seemed to be deviating far from expectations. Jaime concluded such a breach must be in consequence of imbibing the port, although it appeared Tyrion had taken at least half the bottle for himself.

The Lannister brothers were ignored in favour of discussing the virtues of Miss Lyanna Stark, and Jaime supposed this was kinder fate than he had reason to expect. Oberyn Martell had a particular interest in the lady’s dancing form, for a man who was _not_ courting her. Mercifully, he was soon freed from this tortured conversation when the men joined the women in the drawing-room. His anxiety about Brienne had been for naught, as his wife was happily engaged in conversation with Miss Martell.

Before he could join her, he was summoned to Lady Olenna’s side.

“Your father would be displeased by your marriage,” she said.

_What had polite society come to,_ Jaime thought, _I am supposed to be the indelicate party here._

“Then you will be happy to know I only married to please myself,” he replied in a low tone to match his conversation partner’s, angry he could not challenge the old crone to a duel for his wife’s honour.

“Did you now?” she returned. “And what exactly did you hope to gain?”

Jaime did _not_ appreciate anyone questioning his devotion to Brienne and poured all his venom in his snappish retort, “The pleasure of attempting to make her happy every day.”

Her ladyship’s expressions revealed she was rather taken aback by this response; Jaime did not understand why she had an issue comprehending his love — Lady Olenna had been the one to recognize his wife’s value almost instantly.

After a moment she smiled, “Well, it seems like you have more sense and character than I had been previously led to believe.”

Frankly, Jaime was unsure if he wanted her endorsement; nevertheless, he could affect politeness for Brienne’s sake.

“I am so gratified, as I have always sought to capture your good opinion,” he said, not quite keeping the sarcasm from colouring his tone.

She dismissed him; in this one instance, he was happy to oblige.

He surveyed the social landscape; Tyrion appeared to be flirting with Miss Tyrell, much to Aunt Genna’s pleasure and Cersei’s censure; Rhaegar and Stark were discussing the benefits of land inclosures; Miss Martell and Brienne had been joined by the former’s brother, who was making his wife flush.

Jaime felt a surge of jealousy he had not felt since the day they were engaged, but then Brienne captured his eyes with her own — her pleading expression drained all of his negative emotions. He moved forward, desirous to be her chivalric knight until their hostess would finally free them of this slow death by social graces.

Much later, as he collapsed onto the pillows and embraced his weary wife, he wondered if such social events could rival the mental toil and suffering of those who experienced the mythical battles of the Long Night. He certainly could not imagine a more fearsome Night King than Lady Olenna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: I thought quite a bit about Sense and Sensibility's time in London when writing these chapters; the ridiculous antics on the pianoforte are my rewriting of that hilarious scene between Emma and Jane in the 2020 Emma; Oberyn Martell would not impress Jane Austen, I'm guessing, but she nevertheless invented Henry Crawford so who can truly say; Jaime constantly wishes for duels but maybe that isn't such a great idea; land enclosure was much debated issue long before the Regency and tragically continued for the rest of the century — this is also discussed in Sense and Sensibility.
> 
> Next time, Cersei learns what has happened since she "found" Mr. Baelish's letters that were definitely written by him.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I would love to know what you think!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are some wins and losses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I SAID I would likely take a break, but that was before Saturday afternoon when the weight of so many years was finally lifted. And certain events in this chapter felt correctly aligned with this moment. 
> 
> Thanks so much to cytara and nossbean for reading this in advance and encouraging me (and catching my more egregious typos!). I have been very nervous about writing Cersei's perspective throughout this endeavor, so thank you both so much for making feel as if it is okay to take risks! 
> 
> And thank you so much to everyone for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I know I STILL have a backlog, but will begin answering them today. I appreciate every kind word, and I always am interested in hearing from you about the story or Austen! You're all great!

If pressed to voice an opinion on the subject, the majority of Casterly’s population would admit that while they believed Miss Lannister put on airs, she was a lady of style, beauty, and proper decorum. The more naïve members of the community, such young Miss Merryweather, were happy to be guided by her social graces; the majority of the time, Miss Lannister’s sharp mind slightly improved her followers’ wit — the exceptions to this rule tended to cause less damage than what was likely and thus, require no space in the narration. A large part of Miss Lannister’s social success, despite her pride, involved patience, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

Cersei tried to practice this virtue that had served her so well in the past when Jaime made arrangements for the Lannisters (with the exception of Tyrion, who departed for the Citadel to begin the new term) to stay in town beyond the planned two weeks; the comparatively little power Cersei held outside The Rock began to grate upon her nerves — Aunt Genna made no secret of her attempts to curb her niece’s more independent characteristics.

While in good faith Cersei could not say she loathed Brienne, she was quite displeased Jaime had made their aunt so joyful on the subject of matrimony — Cersei was quite sick of hearing its virtues. This irritation only increased after the intelligence she received at Lady Olenna’s dinner party: that Rhaegar was engaged to Miss Martell. Marrying Rhaegar Targaryen had been a childish wish of hers, when she had occasionally allowed herself to be swept up in the ideas of matrimony — that is, until Jaime’s attempts to duel the former Lord Targaryen had severed their connexion entirely, removing the temptation. It was not that Cersei wished to marry the man — she was happy to benevolently rule Casterly — she simply could not bear the insult that Rhaegar had chosen to _forget her_ in favour of a woman defined by frailty, for even her beauty was marked by it. The outrage!

It was as if Rhaegar had never been bewitched by Miss Cersei Lannister, had never truly considered making her his bride.

(Cersei certainly held no grudge over Miss Martell’s talent on the pianoforte. But even so, Cersei found such talent wasted on a woman who was _humble_ about such a thing, who shrank from the praise of others. If Cersei held such talent, she would demonstrate how to best receive praise and compliments.)

To add insult to this injury, Brienne had befriended Miss Martell and had called upon her several times, which had led to an acquaintance with Miss Lyanna Stark — a wild thing, more likely to be renowned for her passionate sport, if at all, than her disposition. Cersei did not blame her good-sister for making such disappointing connexions, as she knew Brienne had no knowledge of what sufferings _she_ endured. And as a woman in need of compassion herself, Brienne understood the importance of charity to the weakest of society; Cersei could hardly ask the poor girl to go against her better nature if she insisted upon befriending such persons. 

But after Jaime happily talked of inviting Brienne’s new _friends_ to The Rock, she snapped and expressed her displeasure.

A year ago, Jaime would have instantly dismissed his plans to please his sister; Cersei was unhappy to find this was no longer the case.

“Miss Martell and Miss Stark have been good friends to Brienne,” he said. “You will get over your jealousy —”

“Jealousy?”

“As I have learned, we must share Brienne. You cannot have her all to yourself.”

Cersei burned with indignation at such a charge of _overattachment to Brienne_ , but Jaime continued, “You will not ruin this for her. She’s been very lonely for a long time. And I’ve never said one word about Miss Merryweather or Mr. Baelish haunting our halls.”

For insulting Taena, Jaime would pay, Cersei decided, but she had to accept his charge about Mr. Baelish with as good grace as she could; she wished she could tell Jaime that by the time they returned to The Rock, Mr. Baelish would likely be far away from Casterly, with no hope of luring a rich wife without the distinction of his profession. Cersei hoped, for the septon’s sake, he had wealthy friends to fall upon — although it might give her greater pleasure to see him experience the humility of true poverty. Mr. Baelish had preached about it often enough from the pulpit.

The majority of Jaime’s time in King’s Landing now was spent meeting with leading writers on mundane subjects that should not concern Lannisters. Cersei supposed Brienne had influenced Jaime too well for him to be devoting _this_ much attention to philanthropy; as for mixed farming, she had assumed Mr. Marbrand would take over _those_ types of duties and interests. She did not understand why her brother insisted upon making his life as tedious as possible, when he could simply pay others to care.

Cersei’s utmost regret in leaving Casterly so soon after Mr. Baelish’s shocking display was that she left her dearest Taena alone to cope with her disappointed hopes. Her friend’s regular letters relieved a small amount of this guilt, for Taena detailed her great strength in overcoming low spirits and her application to the reading lists Cersei had made for her improvement. The only disappointment in these letters for Cersei was the fact that it appeared Mr. Baelish was too painful a subject for Taena to speak upon in more than the most general terms, and therefore there was no news of whether or not Mr. Marbrand was as innovative as Cersei had judged him. What _did_ allow Cersei to speculate that her plan would be successful was Taena’s last letter, expressing her curiosity as to why the Tully family — with the exception of Mr. Edmure — had abruptly removed from the country to Bitterbridge and then King’s Landing. _Was this done to separate Lysa from an impudent and unholy match,_ Cersei asked herself, _what else could have disturbed Ser Hoster so?_

After a final month of social exile, the Lannisters _finally_ returned to their seat. Cersei’s patience had never been tried so thoroughly.

Thankfully, it appeared Marbrand was at least competent in overseeing his duties, if not in charming the general population, as The Rock remained the pillar of the community with its stability intact. He welcomed them home with all the good grace and humility due to one’s superiors, and Cersei was gratified when he subtly suggested that _Miss Lannister_ might be surprised by how Casterly had changed without her presence. No more was said on the subject, however, as Jaime turned the conversation towards livestock, and Cersei resolved to visit Taena as soon as it was polite.

Visions of her lovely friend occupied Cersei’s mind throughout what had turned into a tiresome visit. She hoped that the poor dear had not been too amiss without her guidance, the grief evident in their letters worried Cersei so.

After no small amount of time, Cersei was able to call for the carriage. She made the fatal mistake of asking Josmyn to stop the carriage in the village center, while she pondered over whether or not she should go and purchase Taena a small trifle as a means of apology for all that had transpired. Cersei was shaken from her thoughts by a loud tap on the carriage window and looked up to see Mrs. Bolton. With one gloved finger, Cersei pushed open the carriage window.

“Miss Lannister — you’ve returned! — such news! — You have missed such scandal … the likes of which have never stained our community in such a way before! — It is _perhaps_ too horrible to say aloud, too horrible to write. —”

Cersei gritted her teeth to stop herself from interrupting the old gossip.

“But you must know, given how The Rock has entertained such a man — Not that we blame the Lannisters, it was only right you treat our septon with such deference — But how can I say this to a young woman such as yourself? I do not know if I have the wisdom for a momentous task such as this —”

With a bit of coaxing, however, Mrs. Bolton was able to relay the following information: For charges of licentious behaviour — Mrs. Bolton could not say beyond this; it was only widely known that these acts were so against common decency they could not be spoken of — Mr. Baelish had been removed by the High Septon from his post and expelled from the faith. He had left Casterly in disgrace. Mrs. Bolton _would not_ spread gossip, she was not that type of woman, but she _wondered_ if the removal of the Tullys shortly before this expulsion occurred was connected.

Cersei fought against her feelings; she remained impassive, except for when she had to affect astonishment or horror. Mrs. Bolton was pleased with her audience and continued to speak:

“As you know, my dear, I never gossip — I don’t hold with such nonsense, I cannot. — But it is so odd that Miss Lysa was attached to the man, although he appeared to have a far more vested interest in _you_ , and then so quickly removed — And now Mr. Edmure has reported his sister has been married! — Met the gentleman at Bitterbridge, with little courtship. — But I’m not one to spread false rumours. We all know the Tullys are the moral center of our little countryside —”

Cersei did not miss _that_ slight against the Lannisters.

But the ridiculous woman still had useful information to convey: a Mr. Hunt had come to Casterly to serve in Mr. Baelish’s place until a replacement septon could be found; Mrs. Bolton was _sure_ she heard that their new shepherd would arrive any day:

“Do you remember Mr. Baratheon — of course you do, my apologies — so indelicate of me — His brother recently married and has long been dedicated to guiding wayward souls — Perhaps he will be able to help his brother, oh, excuse me again Miss Lannister —”

After being reminded of Mr. Robert Baratheon and their unfortunate connexion no less than five times, Cersei was finally left in peace; Mrs. Bolton had no further information to convey nor further speeches to give at Cersei’s expense.

On rare occasions, Cersei found it prudent to avoid possessing full knowledge of the comings and goings of village life. While this went against her nature, it would not do for a young and unmarried woman to possess intimate knowledge of what Mr. Baelish had _done_ much less how such abjections had been _unveiled._ It had enraged her to sit quietly as Mrs. Bolton had insulted the Lannisters and acted superior when displaying knowledge Cersei had not possessed; but now Cersei could revel in triumph — she had chosen her marks, allies, and targets perfectly — her name was unattached from this scandal — her aims had succeeded. Mr. Baelish would no longer haunt her steps; he would not linger as a reminder of failure.

No prying eyes were looking towards the Lannister carriage. Cersei allowed herself to smile. Perhaps this is what the queens of old Westeros had felt at the end of every victory — oh what she could have done in that time! She decided that she would _not_ buy Taena a small trinket; she would be as extravagant as her feelings led her. They would celebrate the removal of the man that had diminished both their hopes. Casterly was _hers_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively, this chapter was titled: Corrupt man is removed from his position. 
> 
> Notable Easter Eggs: The beginning description of Cersei is inspired by various points of Emma; while Cersei is Cersei, in the case of hearing about matrimony from "well meaning" relatives is perhaps something many of us can relate to; Cersei's reaction to Rhaegar choosing to marry someone perhaps mirrors the reaction of Gwyneth Paltrow's Emma once she finds out Frank Churchill is engaged to Jane Fairfax ... which is actually a choice I'm quite annoyed with the film for, as it makes Emma's legit complaints in the novel about his behavior seem shallow and gives Frank EVEN MORE OF A PASS ... dude sucks (also: not super happy with a lot of the choices of the 1996 film but that's not what these notes are here for so I'll stop); Cersei DEFINITELY holds a grudge over Elia's talent; like quite a few of Austen's characters who are either in or claim to be interested in the church, Mr. Baelish remains a hypocrite; mixed farming is growing crops and raising livestock ... the nineteenth-century saw quite a change for English labor, and Jaime is thinking of these potential challenges, not that Cersei cares; Taena's reading lists mirror Emma's reading lists ... Emma herself is better at making lists than reading them; the scene with Mrs. Bolton and Cersei is, of course, inspired by Emma 2020; Lysa gets to be quickly married to someone she met at a resort town instead of the Mr. Elton figure in this ... I've left Lysa's fate vague, but assure you she'll be much happier than her canon counterpart, as for all the commentary about terrible marriages, I can not bear to write too many of them, particularly as I think of poor Lydia Bennet; and don't feel sorry for Baelish ... he's absolutely terrible, and while Cersei was selfish and twisted events to suit her, Baelish was involved in plenty of terrible things she did not know about. Cersei did everyone a favor, although there will be unexpected consequences...
> 
> Next time, Hyle Hunt gets his own chapter; I apologize to the readers.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The narrator apologizes for subjecting the reader to the internal monologue of Mr. Hyle Hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading everyone! And thank you to cytara and jellyb34n for assuring me that I had not committed a horrible sin against Jane Austen or, well, anyone in writing this chapter.

As far as Mr. Hyle Hunt was concerned, it was a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman of good fortune must be in want of a husband to manage her wealth.

However little fortune Mr. Hunt had to his own name was inconsequential, as his confidence was so well fixed, that he considered the women of Bitterbridge to be his for the picking. _He_ was not the property of any one woman, no matter what his encounters with them implied, but he had set his future hopes on a particular lady.

Miss Brienne Tarth — in his view — was neither handsome nor clever, but she was rich. This womanly virtue in Mr. Hunt’s mind, while not quite capable of ensuring his affections for the lady over all other women, was at least the blessing most able to induce him towards matrimony. While the lady in question (as the reader would happily note) had rejected his initial proposal, Mr. Hunt was certain this was a game in which to secure his affections.

The girl’s stepmother had implied as much; in their parting conversation before Miss Tarth removed to the country, Mrs. Tarth had suggested he give her time to suffer true solitude before renewing his suit. When the memory of Miss Tarth’s rejection stung his pride, Mr. Hunt would imagine his triumph at securing the woman’s agreement to his second proposal and, later, his establishment in a comfortable home procured with his wife’s dowry — he would ensure their lodgings would be close to a port city; a man needed his entertainment.

These thoughts pleased Mr. Hunt and, while he had promised Miss Tarth he would follow her to Casterly, his anger at her refusal fueled him to stay away for many months and pursue his fortune through other means. _She will cry tears of joy to see me again_ , he thought, _for who besides me would even look at her_?

These other means procured him a path to Casterly through a most natural way; he would not have to give up any of his dignity to follow her. Despite his own meager funds, his ability to compliment and coerce in turns opened up many a drawing room; and so, Mr. Hunt found himself on a late winter day at the party of Lord Connington— from whom he was acquainted through a nephew — discussing his predicament (how to chase after Miss Tarth without the loss of dignity) with his great friend Ser Edmund Ambrose, who was far more interested in laughing at Mr. Hunt’s recent attempts to gain a position in the faith.

“If you do not plan to help me,” Hunt complained, “I will remove myself from your presence and entertain the ladies.”

“But none of the ladies can help you,” his friend said. “I can. Indeed, despite the fact that the orders hardly suit you, they will enable you to get exactly what you want with little risk.”

Hunt scoffed, but Ambrose for once was able to enlighten his friend.

“The village of Casterly was quite recently shaken by quite the scandal. One of the local families — I cannot remember the name but it began with a T — it must be your Tarths — had to separate their daughter from the local septon. It appears he had quite the perverse designs on the daughter, who was innocent in all this, but a family friend warned them of his scheme to ruin her,” Ambrose said.

Hunt frowned. It appeared that one man too many had unknowingly tried to carry out Hunt’s own scheme. The amount of dragons in Miss Tarth’s dowry was too attractive to gamble with his own pride; he would need to depart for Casterly immediately.

“And this is where you come in,” Ambrose said. “The High Septon is looking for a man to handle the septon’s duties until a decent replacement can be found. You should secure the job and get your girl; I saw old Tarth and he indicated his daughter was not accompanying him; she must be back in Casterly with the wife.”

Hunt grinned. Miss Tarth would surely be humbled by her experiences of rejection and loneliness; she would implore, nay, beg him to marry her as quickly as possible and remove her from the site of her humiliation as soon as a permanent septon could be found.

Through his gallantry and connexions, Mr. Hunt secured the position as Casterly’s interim septon. But when he arrived at the dreadfully provincial hole, he did not quite find what he had expected. Firstly, quite a few members of the community had vacated the village for more bustling centers of industry — including the richest family, the Lannisters. From the whispers about town, Hunt discovered that The Rock had been inhabited for many years by the Lannister twins; the brother had a reputation for being a proud, somewhat unpleasant fellow who had only been recently softened by his new wife’s appearance — he idly wondered what beauty tempted a man who had reportedly cared little for some of the richest and most accomplished women in Westeros; Miss Lannister, like her brother, had shied away from matrimony. There was no woman Hunt could not charm, perhaps Miss Lannister could be an ample replacement for Miss Tarth — she certainly would be fairer to look at, and the Lannister wealth would rival the Tarth dowry. But a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush, he had to remind himself.

The second surprise was that the only Tarth who currently inhabited Casterly was Mrs. Tarth. Hunt always found the woman to be worth an idle flirtation; she would certainly provide more entertainment than her stepdaughter once they were wed. When he had enquired after Miss Tarth, Mrs. Tarth had said very little about her whereabouts, but promised the girl and her father would return to the country by the end of the week, as would the Lannisters. She offered him an invitation to dinner with the promise of meeting the family. He readily agreed, hoping he could use Miss Lannister to stir jealousy in Miss Tarth’s breast — or perhaps vise-versa.

His fantasies carried him through most of his interactions during his time in Casterly, and thus so self-assured in his success, he hardly paid attention to the chatter of his momentary parishioners. Mrs. Bolton had a great deal to say to him, indeed, but he simply nodded in response to her idle chatter, as he only heard the name of Mrs. Lannister on her lips — what was a married woman to him? He could hardly upset a future connexion by paying too much attention to the man’s wife.

The eve of the dinner arrived, and Hyle arrived at Evenfall full of anticipation. When he was shewn into the drawing-room, he suspected he was the last to arrive; as his gaze sought Miss Tarth — who was seated next to her father and, for once, was _not_ wearing an entirely ill-fitting gown — he saw a far more pleasant vision: a golden woman, the most beautiful he had seen, stood next to an equally handsome man. He hoped that this was the unattached Miss Lannister, rather than the man’s wife.

Mrs. Tarth stood and greeted him before interrupting the conversation between her husband and stepdaughter. “Brienne,” the woman said gleefully, “I’ve invited your old friend Mr. Hunt to dinner. He will be giving the sermon tomorrow.”

Brienne was all astonishment; her eyes were wide with shock, and her skin was paler than usual. Hunt felt triumphant; soon she would be his — he knew no other man would perform so great a gesture as to follow her anywhere.

(If Hunt had paid attention to the other inhabitants in the room, he would have noticed the soon-to-be introduced Mr. Lannister turn as pale as Brienne; he would have noticed Mr. Lannister clench his fist in anger; he would have noticed the whispered communication between Mr. Lannister and his conversation partner. But he did not.)

Mr. Tarth quickly interrupted Hunt’s thoughts to introduce his other guests — Mr. Jaime Lannister and Miss Cersei Lannister. Hunt was quite gratified to make their acquaintance, although Mr. Lannister appeared quite haughty, but then —

“I, of course, have the particular honour of calling young Mr. Lannister my good-son,” Mr. Tarth said. “As you’re so fond of Brienne, Hunt, I’m sure you will be happy to act as the first of her friends from home to wish her joy.”

Hunt experienced speechlessness at this development. Mrs. Tarth simply smirked, content in her machinations, whose sole aim was to make her stepdaughter uncomfortable; Hunt hardly minded this — the unsightly tease deserved far more than such tricks for her treatment of him. He would simply spend his short time in Casterly revenging himself upon her as thoroughly as possible as punishment for such a humiliating rejection.

Despite his self-sacrifice, his willingness to overlook her flaws (which far outweighed any attractions), Brienne Tarth had the audacity to overlook his virtues and marry a man who had to be less interested in her than he would ever have been. The only explanation for their union had to be that the Lannister estate was in need of immediate funds that would have come for her dowry; Hunt had never seen Brienne Tarth as shallow, but he suspected that the handsomeness of her new husband had induced her to overlook his uncivil behaviour. Why did honest men such as himself face rejection from such undeserving women, while arrogant landowners could charm them so easily and be just as mercenary? 

Hunt recovered himself enough to smile and exchange pleasantries; he then spent a few moments speaking to the new _Mrs. Lannister_ — oh how she crumpled under his attentions — until the puffed-up peacock that was her husband appeared at her elbow. Hunt was forced to sit in stunned silence as the unpleasant fellow lavished attentions on his awkward and halting wife. Lannister’s eyes — as hard as flint when they turned toward him — softened the instant they looked upon her face. Could the fool truly be in love with her?

Dinner was a laboured, tedious affair as Mr. Tarth was far too interested in his darling daughter’s recent travels, Mr. Lannister’s only occupation was to fawn inordinately over his wife, Miss Lannister only wished to speak of her darling friend (who appeared to be a parlour-boarder and, hence, beneath his notice) and charming land agent — who was a land agent compared to him? — and Mrs. Tarth worked to make subtle digs at the whole of the table, perhaps in punishment for devoting too much attention towards the person who, in her mind, deserved it least. Perhaps if Mrs. Tarth were made a widow, he would be able to enjoy her company and good fortune; their minds were always far more in tune than his with the former Miss Tarth.

The meal ended, but the party did not linger. Mr. Lannister suddenly developed a concern that his darling wife had been overtaxed by her recent journey from King’s Landing and felt she must be taken home at once. Miss Lannister appeared slightly disappointed at the abrupt ending to her entertainment but joined her brother and good-sister in their carriage to return to The Rock.

At such a turn of events, Hunt could hardly stay and gave his own polite farewells. His disappointed spirits clouded his memories of the rest of his stay in Casterly, with the exception of one incident.

Mr. Jaime Lannister met him by happenstance on the path towards The Rock one morning. In as few words as possible, Mr. Lannister made it clear that while his wife had forbidden him from defending her honour, if Mr. Hunt did not remove himself from the village as soon as humanly possible, Mr. Lannister would be forced to perform activities that would cause both men regret. Mr. Lannister also requested Mr. Hunt stop staring at his sister in an indecent manner; Miss Lannister was of no interest to the likes of him.

Angry, humiliated, regretful, Mr. Hunt was nearly ecstatic when news came that Mr. Stannis Baratheon had been appointed as Casterly septon and wished to take up his duties immediately, thus ending the short history of Mr. Hunt’s relations with Mrs. Brienne Lannister and the village she called home.

The fate of Mr. Hunt is beyond the scope of this narrative, and frankly, is as uninteresting as the man himself; however, the reader will be gratified to know that his misfortunes were only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: The first few paragraphs riff on Pride and Prejudice's opening, as well as the opening of Emma; Austen refers to more mercenary courtships as "games," I'm thinking of Persuasion specifically when it comes to William Elliot; speaking of Persuasion, they're not one-to-one equivalents, but I did think of William Elliot and Mrs. Clay when writing Hyle Hunt and Roelle specifically; the role of gossip in moving the plot forward mirrors how gossip functions in many eighteenth and nineteenth-century novels, especially Austen; Hunt's self-absorbed behavior definitely creates the conditions for this chapter (he might be even less self-aware than Cersei), but the happy accidents in this also take a page from nineteenth-century novelists such as Dickens; discussions of risk/gambling also show up a lot in nineteenth-century novels, including quite literally; the description of Jaime definitely, once again, borrows from descriptions of Darcy; This might be the first time Hyle sees Brienne in gowns that fit well, but Jaime and Cersei have made sure that she has clothing that she both likes and suits her figure; Jaime continues act like Mr. Woodhouse, which is convenient for escaping people one wants to duel; nothing good ever happens to Hyle in this universe, mostly because of his own unwillingness to work through his vices — he does not stay in the church.
> 
> Next time, Casterly receives some new inhabitants, one of which is so trying Jaime wishes to dump the tea on their head rather than serve it ....
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! As always, I would love to know what you think!!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lannisters meet the septon and his new wife, unfortuantely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading! And thanks all so much for your kind reception of Hyle's chapter. When I began writing that chapter in August (??!!?), I was very nervous about whether or not anyone would like it. So glad you did!! 
> 
> And thank you again to cytara and jellyb34n for their continued encouragement, notes, and general support.

Even a fortnight after the departure of Mr. Hyle Hunt, Jaime did not know precisely how his sister was somehow to blame for the appearance such a rake masquerading as a septon in Casterly — but his intuition _told_ him Cersei was behind Baelish’s rapid fall from grace. This fact also meant, by extension, Cersei was responsible for The Rock’s current predicament: namely, whether or not the three Lannisters in residence could placidly entertain Mr. Stannis Baratheon and his new wife without committing a cardinal sin, or worse, be accused of inhospitality.

Jaime once again cursed the social dance that had compelled Brienne to invite such grating guests into their home as Selyse Baratheon's sickly smile turned from his sister onto his innocent wife.

“I hope you do not mind ceding your title as new bride to me, dear,” the serpentine woman said. “I know the attention you receive at such a change in status may go to one’s head — you must have received so little before — being a _bride_ transforms one’s responsibilities so, although I suppose as the septon’s wife I will always be seen as a pillar of the community — but true virtue comes from humility. Perhaps you _do_ know a thing or two about _that_.”

Despite the undertone of the newly minted Mrs. Baratheon’s remarks, Brienne looked rather relieved that she would soon be allowed to escape the visits, the social deference, and the knowing looks that came with the title of _bride_.

“I’m sure your example will induce me to act accordingly,” said Brienne dryly, cutting off Jaime’s opportunity to make a quip at the Baratheons’ expense.

Jaime hid his grin by taking a sip of tea; perhaps he affected his wife’s disposition as much as she affected his.

Mrs. Baratheon appeared to lack the ability to recognize sarcasm, as she simply simpered and said, “How like this house is my father’s seat, Brightwater. Did I not just say, husband, how the gardens were quite like Brightwater? — If the light in this room was not so dim I would fancy myself back at Brightwater!”

This unfavourable comparison Jaime could tell, distressed Cersei greatly, as she saw The Rock as the height of sophistication, certainly far removed from the vulgarity of some nobodies she had never heard of until Selyse Baratheon had been forced into their midst.

“I am sure there are far less virtues to a strange home rather than the walls you know so well,” Cersei said. “I hope —”

“Far fewer,” Mr. Baratheon interrupted.

“ _Pardon?”_ Cersei asked.

“You said less,” the septon replied crisply. “The preferred term would be fewer as —”

The pedantic grammar lesson reminded Jaime of his time at the Citadel … even if the most monotonous lectures there had been far livelier than Mr. Baratheon’s interests. Unfortunately for the whole of Casterly, the man’s sermons were inordinately dull; Jaime suspected that whatever sorcery Cersei had employed to rid herself of Mr. Baelish could not be repeated — a fact he almost regretted. Casterly was doomed to be instructed in syntax and morality in equal turns by the septon, while the septon’s wife demonstrated the consequences of hypocrisy to the population. What an education they would receive!

Jaime wondered that if he left _Briony Hill_ in plain view for the septon’s next visit, the consequence would be a scandalized man of the faith who would be happy to avoid The Rock at all costs; with his luck, however, Jaime suspected it would be more likely that the man would simply bemoan the quality of the writing in great detail.

His musings were interrupted by Mrs. Baratheon snapping her fingers far too closely to his face. _This shrew_ , Jaime thought, _was the worst kind of nouveau riche — assuming her wealth gave her precedence over everyone else without the manners to soften such superior feeling._

“Oh, Lannister,” she said, much to his irritation, “Mrs. Bolton has raved about your kindness in sending her fruits from your fields and orchards. I am sure you would wish to extend such gestures to _all_ the neighbouring families.”

As Jaime did _not_ wish to extend any form of hospitality, much less distinguish this particular woman, he replied, “You are so kind to suggest such kindness. Too many in Casterly have long felt a pinch on their purchases; this year we shall see that every family in need will receive as much as we can afford to supply.”

Mrs. Baratheon frowned, opened her mouth as if to object —

“As a self-declared woman of means yourself — and a septon’s wife whose duty must be to the community as much as the Lannisters — you must be interested in contributing in some way. My darling wife has brilliant ideas of how we might be able to lessen the burden on the poor.”

Through gritted teeth, Mrs. Baratheon expressed her interest in Mrs. Lannister’s _hobby_.

“Oh no, this is not a mere distraction. We spent a good deal of time in King’s Landing gaining opinions on how we might best be able to truly help. Tell them, my la—my love.”

And so, Jaime had the pleasure of being able to show off his wife’s intelligence and compassion to Mr. Baratheon who, to his credit, appeared only slightly less fascinated with some of the ideas than proper grammar while simultaneously forcing the vapid Mrs. Baratheon to listen to a subject that wearied her (as it was not about herself) but required her attention for appearances’ sake. Cersei seemed to innately understand her brother’s aims, as she took an uncharacteristic interest in philanthropy and, if the discussion were in danger of changing course, she was quick to ask probing questions that required detailed answers.

“As The Rock has for so long — for better or worse — been viewed as the heart of Casterly, we plan to enact changes here first that will earn the community’s trust,” Brienne said. “We were very lucky in meeting Mr. Umber in King’s Landing, who has taken steps in his own mill to make the work more humane, and we want to follow his example. He has found great success with limiting the workday to eight hours, and we plan to adapt his model to the estate, starting with the household staff.”

Mrs. Baratheon affectedly smiled; Jaime’s two decades of experience with the shallow and selfish — Lannisters, in other words — gave him the wherewithal to recognize her derision. Brienne’s interests had certainly enlightened him to how he could reorganize The Rock just as he attempted to modernize the estate’s farming techniques, but he had certainly not lost his ability to pay debts to those who crossed him or his family. He vowed that not only would he improve the working conditions within the household for the sake of the servants — in particular he thought of Pia and her flesh that had not quite healed after that fateful night — but he would ensure that he would hire away all of the Baratheons’ servants as well. Brienne could not argue against his pettiness if he was simultaneously doing a good deed — and saving anyone for working for such a woman was truly an act of chivalry.

The torment of both the Baratheons and Lannisters ended soon after this, and once their quite unwelcome guests departed, Jaime threw himself upon the carpeted floor of the drawing-room.

“Don’t mind him,” his sister said, presumably to Brienne, “Treat Jaime like you would a housecat; the more you feed his dramatics, the more it encourages him. We can go into the library and talk more. Did you notice Mrs. Baratheon’s dress was almost as decorative as our sweet treats? Far too much lace —”

From his position on the ground — one he stubbornly would not give up now — Jaime groaned. He _almost_ missed the presence of Mr. Baelish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: So while Stannis has no specific Emma equivalent, Selyse is very clearly a Mrs. Elton stand-in ... and you might recognize her obsession with being a bride and some adaptations of Mrs. Elton's lines and interests here; I must admit, however, when I wrote her quips about being humble, I thought of Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice (2005); being a bride meant a change in status and being a new bride came with some social recognition ... you can see this in Austen, especially in places like Pride and Prejudice where Lydia is being a dick about it and in Emma where Mrs. Elton is; speaking of Selyse, her obsession with Brighwater borrows from Mrs. Elton's obsession with her brother's Maple Grove; if you're picturing the horrible sermons from Austen adaptations in relation to how Stannis might speak, you wouldn't be wrong; Briony Hill AKA Fanny Hill once again appears; Jaime and Brienne's philanthropic ideas are based on some of Robert Owen's ideas (Umber is his stand-in here) — Owen was a late-eighteenth/early-nineteenth social reformer who had loads of projects and ideas (and is credit with the origins of the eight-hour workday); the workday for servants during the Regency was long and arduous; Jaime is experimenting with farming partly because he wants to and partly because the economic conditions of the nineteenth century required the agrarian community to adapt; and, yes, that final moment where Jaime is overcome with feels and throws himself upon the carpet is another reference to Emma (2020). 
> 
> Next time, Cersei and Brienne face their differences.
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has an unpleasant revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all readers, as always. As this story gets longer and longer and further away from the source inspiration, I appreciate all of your interest, kind comments, and kudos. It means so much that you're just reading this!
> 
> Thanks in particular to cytara and jellyb34n for reading these chapters in advance, and their encouragement, helpful suggestions, and taking the time to be supportive.

Brienne’s seventeenth year had been particularly harrowing, as she had been thrust into the public eye, with the expectation from her father she would soon be married and the presumption from Roelle that no man would apply to dance with her charge, much less for her hand. When the young lady could not use riding as a means to escape the cruel insults that rattled around Brienne’s mind long after they were spoken, she would retreat into the world of the novel, where all heroes were gallant and all ladies were beautiful. Roelle even approved of _Ser Barriston Selmy_ , as the esteemed Mr. Samwell Royce’s works all were quite clear in their celebration of virtue.

The book Roelle did not know about was Brienne’s collection of fairy tales, which her father had brought back for her the previous year from his travels. Brienne particularly enjoyed the story in which the evil stepmother — how relevant this story would be to her own life she did not yet know — was punished for mistreating her stepdaughter, who found love with a handsome prince with golden curls.

In Brienne’s mind, and much to her continued amazement, her present did feel rather like a fairytale. She had inexplicably attracted a man who resembled the golden prince physically, even if his temperament tended to lack regality. The Rock certainly could be mistaken for a castle; she was unsure if she had explored the whole of her home, even after months of marriage. The Lannisters as a whole certainly carried themselves as if they were royalty. Brienne certainly did not wish for Roelle’s eyes to be violently plucked out by vengeful birds or any of the other horrific fates that awaited the villainesses of these tales — but she did find herself hoping for more than a few miles’ separation between them. Despite a lingering resentment towards her father for employing Roelle, for marrying her, for never noticing her treatment of Brienne … if the Tarths were to leave Casterly, Brienne would miss him. Although, as her husband had readily observed —

“Your father is hardly in residence at Evenfall as it is. Perhaps he regrets marrying that woman and chooses to leave her here to plague us.”

Jaime had speculated, mostly within his own mind, about why a father as fond of his daughter would marry such a woman; given the circumstances, only a few logical conclusions seemed possible. As these would only upset both the reader and Brienne, and given that there was nothing to be done about the union now, the narrative would only slow by lingering on regrets over the past.

The present question, in Brienne’s mind, was whether or not she could bear to be in the same room as her stepmother. After the Hyle Hunt incident, it appeared that Mrs. Tarth was far more vindictive than anyone had previously anticipated (except, perhaps, the careful reader), and Mr. Tarth was far more oblivious than any reasonable person would have thought possible for a self-made man. The stark reality was that, barring tragedy, Roelle Tarth was a permanent family tie — the knot that held them together could not be so easily loosened so long as the Lannisters and Tarths’ situations remained unchanged.

The Tarths were due for family dinner; Brienne could feel her anxiety over being forced to pretend for her father’s sake overwhelm her more and more as evening drew nearer — she could tell both Jaime and Cersei noticed. While Jaime hovered over her during tea, Cersei took a more direct approach:

“Being intimidated by a mere social climber only makes you less attractive. You’re far too tall and far too broad to consider being cowed by the likes of her. Don’t act so utterly ridiculous,” Cersei snapped.

Jaime stood angrily, his knuckles white with tension, “You may think you’re superior to everyone else, but if you think you can spew such vile filth at —”

Brienne grasped Jaime’s hand. “Stop. Cersei is right; I am quite ridiculous … being ruled by my feelings in such a way does your family name a disservice—”

“Our family name,” he growled. “And you are the opposite of ridiculous, the least ridiculous person in this family — the least ridiculous in all of Casterly. And Cersei will apologize for her insensitivity.”

For her part, Cersei looked mutinous — Brienne was rather unsure if Cersei had ever given up ground in her life, much less to someone like Brienne — but Jaime did not turn his glare from his sister; this was the only time Brienne could truly recall that she had seen the siblings in such a struggle of wills. Brienne had never seen Jaime’s fury directed towards another person — he had flown into a rage over Roelle’s trick over Mr. Hunt but that had been later, after they had returned to The Rock and neither loathsome creature could see how their actions affected the Lannisters. Cersei in particular was important to Jaime, Brienne knew; she had even wondered if Jaime might one day take his twin’s side over his wife’s, as The Rock had been Cersei’s home for far longer and the two women were as divided in their interests as they were their looks.

The palpable tension in the room held until the most unlikely event occurred — Cersei’s eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her gaze. Cersei Lannister, Brienne observed, cried with the same elegance she performed every other deed, delicately wiping the tears from her face with a muslin handkerchief that did not appear quite expensive enough to match the woman’s style. Such a shock appeared to simultaneously drain the anger from her brother and freeze him to the spot, while Brienne’s first instinct was to comfort her good-sister.

“Forgive me, Brienne,” Cersei said through sniffles. “I should not have spoken so harshly, and you are so sensitive. I-I just am … I felt — I have been suffering and displaced my feelings onto you.” The short speech ended, as Cersei’s body was wracked with sobs.

Jaime’s look of puzzlement matched Brienne’s own feelings. Cersei threw herself into the arms of her good-sister and received comfort until it was time to dress for dinner.

Before preceding down the stairs, Jaime found Brienne in her sitting-room.

“She never did apologize,” he said, frowning.

The lack of verbal apology did not bother Brienne; she had so rarely received them from anyone — it was enough to know Cersei was not her enemy. Brienne doubted her good-sister had ever been induced to apologize to anyone, even those for whom she cared.

“I am quite alright,” she said, agitatedly hoping her husband would drop the subject. “And she was very distressed.”

Jaime’s expression softened, although she could still note lines of distress around his eyes. “Allow me to apologize on her behalf. You are far too kind for the likes of us.”

They walked together downstairs, meeting Cersei on the landing. Cersei grabbed Brienne’s hand.

“Brienne, I was unkind. But I meant you should not let Mrs. Tarth’s presence affect you so. You’re Mrs. Lannister. You should take what you want — be who you want. I can guide you,” she said.

Brienne stumbled through assurances and thankfulness for Cersei’s attentions before they made their way downstairs to await their two guests.

The meal was as haltingly awkward as such engagements between the Tarths and the Lannisters always were when others could not be found to round out the company. Since her marriage, Roelle Tarth believed herself to have been elevated to her true position in life and had gained an assurance of superiority that rivaled even Cersei Lannister’s visions of grandeur. The fact that Evenfall was only the second largest house in the county did little to curb this delusion; the obsequious attention she received from the inhabitants of Casterly did everything to reinforce them. That Cersei had chosen to single out Brienne, rather than Mrs. Tarth, as an acquaintance had provoked the snubbed woman’s ire, although she did not dare show it; she was careful to show her disdain only fleetingly. Her expensive gowns made Brienne internally scoff, as she remembered Roelle lecturing on her as a child to maintain humility and avoid displaying her wealth through dress; she wondered what other little hypocrisies her stepmother performed now in her changed situation, without a young charge to chaperone.

These particular vices, bundled together, allowed Brienne to instantly understand her stepmother’s newfound friendship with Mrs. Baratheon.

“Such a darling woman,” Roelle declared. “She is truly a proper mistress of her home” — this was said with a glance at Brienne — “who remains the epitome of high fashion while still being capable of displaying virtue” — at this her glance turned to Cersei — “and truly understands exactly how to improve Casterly society” — a final blow that was directed towards Jaime.

Brienne supposed Roelle had heard from Mrs. Baratheon the changes Jaime and Brienne were implementing at The Rock; it followed that Roelle would never believe that Brienne had taken any true initiative to enact these plans — or that she was capable of any work of intellectual rigor.

“The Baratheons are welcome additions to the neighborhood,” her father declared. “I was delighted by Mr. Baratheon’s initial sermon —”

That day in the sept had been the most monotonous religious performance Brienne had been party to in memory. For the first time, she allowed herself to fully wonder if her father was purposefully oblivious to the state of his world.

Mr. Baratheon’s stirring oration, however, managed to carry the conversation until the end of dinner, when the ladies went through to the drawing-room. Perhaps as a way of apology to Brienne, Cersei began to engage Roelle in a dispute over the latest fashions; the pettiness volleyed between the two women exceeded the limits of Jeyne Arryn’s satirical prose. Brienne entertained herself by reading _The Silent Sister_ , as it appeared the men planned to linger over their drinks.

Just as Brienne began an internal debate as to whether Roelle or the titular character of her Gothic novel was more capable of permanently damaging a child’s psyche, her husband and father burst into the room, looking particularly satisfied with themselves. They seated themselves next to Brienne and explained that Mr. Tarth would be happy to adopt his daughter’s new labour policies alongside The Rock.

“You said that you thought having more than one house in the area put the theory into practice would be helpful when reporting our successes and failures,” Jaime explained.

“This would be quite the commitment, from what Mrs. Baratheon told me at nuncheon,” Roelle interrupted angrily.

Her husband either did not notice or did not care to acknowledge his wife’s irritation.

“And I am in a perfect position to do so. Brienne has been properly married to a fine gentleman, the winds of fortune have continued to bring prosperity to the Tarths in business, and now we will be able to impact the community that has given me my greatest happiness — knowing my daughter’s future is secure,” he replied.

For a moment, Brienne caught a flicker of something akin to misery on her stepmother’s face before it disappeared, and Roelle turned her harsh gaze onto Brienne.

“I’m leaving again for Bitterbridge in a fortnight,” her father said. “But we can work out how to begin implementing the beginning stages before I go. Your stepmother will oversee the work while I’m gone. Now tell me how you’re spending your days here — we spend far too much time apart.”

Jaime and Cersei spent the rest of the night doing their due diligence as hosts and attended to Roelle, leaving Brienne and her father to continue their conversation. Moments like this, when he treated her as if she was the most precious part of his life, were what Brienne clung to when he once again became the distant businessman. Her father embraced her as she wished him farewell; she wondered, despite his promises, how often she would see him before he left yet again. 

Brienne had learned from a young age to expect presents, rather than her father’s presence.

But as she followed her husband to bed — always in what were technically deemed her chambers, never the master room that had been previously occupied by Tywin Lannister — she chided herself for judging her father. Since their marriage, Jaime had confided in her; the memories he and his siblings shared of the late Mr. Lannister had clearly marked their characters. Selwyn Tarth had always been kind to his daughter, even when it became evident she would grow to be unsightly, even when she failed to attract any positive attention.

She never had considered her father cruel in the way Tywin Lannister or her stepmother could be categorized as such, but as Brienne saw the markings of Selwyn Tarth’s neglect on his wife’s face, as she was reminded of all of the almost purposeful obliviousness to her own welfare that allowed Roelle to treat Brienne unkindly, she wondered if her father was cruel.

Brienne could not remember a time in which she was not uneasy about marriage — she had rejected Mr. Hunt because she would not cope with the fate of having a cold husband and all the consequences that followed from it. Roelle had done her best to keep Brienne innocent in the way of the world, but her stepmother tended not to carefully read the novels she had allowed Brienne; this had taught Brienne that the apathy of men for their wives could be just as dangerous as outright meanness. Endless scenarios of how and who she might be eventually induced to marry had plagued Brienne until she met Jaime — had followed her until a week after her marriage, when she had been assured its reality — but she had never considered what type of husband her father was.

Selwyn Tarth had, in his daughter’s memory, doted upon his first wife; with the death of Mrs. Tarth, so too seemed to die his interest in long-term female companionship, at least in the romantic sense. Brienne had been so hurt at his marriage to her now stepmother that she hardly considered why it had occurred. Nor had she wanted to think about the relationship between Roelle and her father. She had certainly never pondered that Roelle might be unhappy. That her father was a villain from Roelle’s perspective. Brienne could not bear to imagine how she might feel if Jaime constantly not shut her out of The Rock’s affairs — she remembered their miscommunication about her dowry and how, even Jaime’s good intentions, being kept in the dark stung — but also left her to conduct business elsewhere.

So lost in these revelations, Brienne hardly noticed the comings and goings of the servants or even her husband’s presence until he gently touched her cheek.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked. Since their marriage, Jaime had occasionally slipped into occasional bouts of nervousness about her constitution and had, on more than one occasion, insisted on calling for Qyburn until she had soothed his concerns. Far more often, he worried over her emotional state; Brienne was mostly gratified that someone truly loved her enough to recognize her turmoil underneath her mask of calm — on occasion, however, her newfound inability to hide herself away was frightening. She suspected that her previous successful attempts to remain an enigma had less to do with her abilities as an actress than the fact that those around her did not care to understand her. Jaime had been the one to carefully examine her, to believe she mattered. If Jaime shattered her heart one day, he would know.

She met his gaze — overflowing with an intensity of adoration and concern she had not known previously — and her fears slipped away. Jaime was not her father, would never be.

She caught his fingers with her own, “I will always be well, so long as I have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Samuel Richardson, the true writer of Sir Charles Grandison, subtitled his novel Pamela: or, Virtue, Rewarded ... although I don't know if modern readers would agree with him in terms of the reward; in a version of the Brothers Grimm Cinderella, the birds pluck out the eyes of the stepsisters; Cersei's handkerchief was obtained from the last time she used tears to solve her problems; the observations about both Roelle and Selyse's clothes in the past two chapters mirror Austen's descriptions of Mrs. Elton's, which she uses as commentary about the woman's vulgarness and hypocrisy; The Silent Sister AKA The Monk reappears, as you might remember, Brienne originally did not borrow it from Jaime because Roelle wouldn't approve; Selwyn is his own character in this, but if you think he resembles Mr. Bennet, Sir Walter Eliot, or Sir Thomas Bertram in his flaws, you would not be wrong; Brienne is thinking about fictional marriages across the nineteenth century ... she would greatly appreciate the directness of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall; Jaime is once again Mr. Woodhouse, but he's beginning to hope for a certain (positive) kind of news. 
> 
> Next time, Cersei determines a new course of action.
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei is confident she has learned from her mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all of you for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting!! I appreciate all of it! 
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara and jellyb34n for taking the time to pre-read these chapters and give feedback and encouragement. 
> 
> A bit of an announcement: After this chapter, I'm taking a short posting break during the holidays. This chapter seemed like a good transition into the next story arc, and I also want to attempt to write something festive (and perhaps even post it). I hope everyone has an amazing holiday season, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Mr. Stannis Baratheon was an improvement over his successors for exactly three — and only three — reasons:

He respected the social order of Casterly and appeared to understand that, naturally, the Lannisters were the village’s most important family.

His sermons might have been dreadfully boring (and what sermon was _not_ so) but were far more interested in the dry details of the faith rather than preening over his own virtue, which showed a self-awareness his forbearers lacked.

And, most importantly, he was married and would by law be unable to embarrass Miss Cersei Lannister through the means of an unwanted proposal.

Supposing Selyse Baratheon died, perhaps through a dreadful carriage accident, Cersei thought, his proposal would not be as horrific as that of Mr. Baelish; at least the Baratheons were a known family, and Stannis was a far less indebted man than his older brother. She would, of course, politely turn the gentleman down, but she was sure he would find another worthy — but humbler — woman in time. Perhaps one less inclined to try to usurp Cersei’s position in society; Cersei was unworried by his current wife — are lions threatened by their prey? But if Selyse Baratheon did not suffer from a tragic fate, she would soon learn who ruled Casterly.

As for the near future, however, it seemed Mrs. Baratheon — sadly — remained in uncommonly good health and appeared to have a sensible driver, so Cersei would have to deal with her newest annoyance posthaste. It was not good for upstarts to receive a taste of power; it was unfair to them, to experience such responsibility, even momentarily, as their powers would be unequal to maintaining such an existence.

For whatever reason, and Cersei had to admit there were many — from Mrs. Baratheon’s view on the attributes necessary to be a proper lady, to her disdain of charitable endeavours that materially altered the fabric of society — the septon’s wife had set herself against seeking out Brienne as an ally; this was the woman's first mistake — one did not alienate and mistreat the wife of _the_ wealthiest man in the county, especially not in front of the aforementioned man, particularly not when he coveted his wife above all things. Mrs. Baratheon’s second mistake was insulting The Rock and its family by her vulgar comparisons and addresses. Her third mistake was to expect that, after all of these insults, Miss Cersei Lannister would not only be happy to befriend the septon’s wife but act as a mere companion.

“I hear Casterly is a very musical society, Miss Lannister,” Mrs. Baratheon had said in a low voice, upon her last visit, so that Brienne would not hear. “You and I _must_ establish a musical club. I am sure some of the girls from the school could learn from you and _me._ So unfortunate to hear your good-sister does not enjoy the musical arts as _we_ do.”

Cersei had hastily changed the subject; if Brienne could not boast of her skills at the pianoforte, then Taena could have no claim of skill whatsoever. No inducement could bring Cersei into such an exclusive circle; exclusivity had its place, of course, so long as those being included were of the correct caliber — this would certainly not be the case if Mrs. Baratheon had hold of the invitations. For a woman so obsessed with the trappings of wealth, Selyse Baratheon lacked the sense to heed the rules of society; if she had her way, Casterly would be reduced to vulgarity and, worse, a form of snobbishness disagreeable to even Cersei.

Cutting the woman, just slightly (as she was the septon’s wife and could not wholly be removed from the circle of Casterly society), was the only thing to be done. Unlike so many of the trials that plagued Cersei, and therefore Casterly, she was sure this matter would take care of itself in time.

What would _not_ take of itself, however, was Taena’s future; the girl’s father only took care of her through financial means and made himself mysteriously absent — his identity was a question that worried Cersei little; he clearly had the wealth to provide for Taena, and as _her_ manners were far more graceful than the lady of The Rock’s, tempting a proper man into matrimony was only a matter of time. For Taena, Cersei divided her energies of overseeing The Rock; as she walked through her domain, finally alone within the wall of her home, Cersei considered what must be done next — Brienne was not the only woman in Casterly with a project, and Cersei would see hers completed first.

As the months had passed, and the sting of the memories of Mr. Baelish faded into memory, Cersei was able to see the world more clearly. Her mistake in attempting to marry Taena off to Mr. Baelish was initially judging the man only for his position; she had known him to be obnoxious, of course, but had been too quick to ask her friend to endure such a man for material gain. Jaime had been correct in fearing that matrimony would bring others into their social sphere — she prayed that Tyrion would find someone suitable, unlikely though it was with his current _activities_ — and Cersei would have been guilty of entangling Taena and the Lannisters permanently with a mercenary lacking the virtues to counterbalance this fact. Worse, she had allowed Taena’s feelings to become dependent upon Mr. Baelish; Cersei often forgot how deeply other women felt about men — an oversight she chided herself for, given the domestic display she was subject to on a daily basis.

With the exception of her twin, there was no one she cared for quite as much as Taena; although, if pressed, Cersei would admit to having some fondness for her good-sister — it was this affection that gave Cersei the strength to abide with Brienne’s ridiculous _good_ deeds. 

(As Jaime and Brienne’s plans, at least in their current state, appeared to make Cersei’s life easier and did not affect her allowance, she was happy to support their endeavours, since they worried Casterly’s social climbers so.) 

Unlike her good-sister, however, Cersei preferred to affect change through dictating Casterly taste and moving within her sphere; caring about the servants was all well and good, but what would happen to Taena if _she_ did not advocate for her? Thus, a new challenge had arisen: finding her friend a _kind_ gentleman who would not fret about Taena’s background and could remain on friendly terms with the Lannisters. Marriage, unfortunately, was the only way Cersei could see forward.

Problematically, Cersei knew no man of her acquaintance established in the surrounding area that was suitable. Mr. Marbrand seemed to have developed an attachment to _her_ , an affection she could not return; she would not attempt to try to displace his affections onto Taena. She had learned from the Baelish incident, and Mr. Marbrand would one day inherit from his father, which would remove Taena from Cersei’s orbit, with only the occasional visit to satisfy her. Such separation would not be borne!

Mr. Edmure Tully was particularly useless in the regard of matrimony. Ser Hoster had been disappointed in his daughters’ marriages — Cersei was rather shocked he agreed to the marriage between Catelyn and Ned, in all honesty — and dared to dream of a proper match (and dowry and a properly titled lady) for his son. Rumour had it that Riverrun was _not_ so prosperous as The Rock; Mr. Marbrand credited the continued success of the Lannister holdings to Jaime’s experimentation … Cersei had not cared to listen to the specifics or the contrast between the estates — at least, beyond the fact that the knowledge that marrying Edmure Tully would also be marrying a potentially doomed project. No, he would not do for her Taena.

There need be no in-depth analysis of Mr. Frey to determine precisely why _that_ was not an option.

In short, as it seemed that all of the grating married women of Cersei’s acquaintance were in perfectly good health, the only options were to bring a suitable man to Taena or bring Taena to such a man. The first plan allowed Cersei much more control of the situation.

Of all the men in her acquaintance, she could only think of one man whose breeding and worldview would align with Cersei’s needs — his attractive visage and strong physique need not be mentioned but would perhaps attract Taena; unfortunately, he was also the brother of the sweetest bore in Westeros — at least Brienne was _interesting_ due to her misfortunes, Miss Martell had no such grievances, from Cersei’s point of view. But Brienne _had_ befriended Miss Elia Martell while they were in King’s Landing. And Jaime _had_ insisted that Brienne’s new companions should be invited to the country; Cersei herself _longed_ for a true social event to bring variety to her outer circle. Her newest plan would simply play out thus:

She would suggest to Jaime that Brienne was overtaxed by the cruelty of Mrs. Baratheon and Mrs. Tarth; inviting a select circle of friends for a house party would cheer Brienne and allow her to talk about her efforts with those who appreciated them.

Miss Elia Martell would need a chaperone; her brother Mr. Oberyn Martell tended to act as such; he must be included in the guest list.

Mr. Oberyn Martell would meet Miss Taena Merryweather over the course of several events, and _he would be charmed_.

They would quickly marry; the newly minted Martells would need to find somewhere in the neighbourhood — Cersei had heard in King’s Landing he was looking to purchase his own estate and now he would have reason to stay in the place where he found his greatest happiness.

Cersei thought through the potential (small) list of properties as she walked through The Rock’s galleries; through the window, she caught a glimpse of her brother comforting Brienne in the gardens. Since the Tarths’ last visit, Brienne had shown far more signs of introspection than before; the stepmother must be to blame; how much better life would be if the woman were gone —

Perhaps the tenants of Evenfall would be induced to evacuate the property.

Then harmony would arrive in Casterly, if only Cersei had the wits to see it done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notable Easter Eggs: Not every man of the faith in Austen is terrible, so Stannis is ... fine; Cersei's internal monologue about carriage accidents is inspired very loosely by Austen's early work Love & Freindship (misspelling is in the title); carriage accidents are not uncommon in this time period's literature; Cersei's seething over Mrs. Baratheon's opinions are inspired by Emma's toward Mrs. Elton at various points of the novel; it's a different flavor, but Mrs. Baratheon snubbing Brienne in particular mirrors the Eltons' unkindness toward Harriet; Mrs. Elton also wants her little club; Mrs. Elton also has a thing about controlling the invitations; Emma 2020 gave its Emma a more progressive attitude about Harriet's birth, I have borrowed that here for Cersei; Cersei and Emma both need to learn their lessons (although, like, hopefully Cersei maintains more of her progressive ideas than Emma) multiple times, as progress is neither linear nor particularly permanent; in the background, we see more of the struggles the country faces in the changing landscape; yes, Cersei is finally thinking about what can be done with Roelle ... it will not involve murder of any kind. 
> 
> Next time, Jaime's flair for the dramatics is displayed in full.
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime sulks before finding ways to improve upon his sour mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So sorry for my long disappearance, but, well, the world is hard right now. I hope that all of you are doing as well as you can, and that things will lighten soon. I will try to resume my practice of posting every Sunday, but I also want to reserve the ability to take a break when needed.
> 
> Thank you so much for coming back after this time away, if you are, and I hope the wait is worth it as Jaime, Brienne, and — of course — Cersei experience the chaos of Casterly. 
> 
> As always, thank you to cytara and jellyb34n for reading this in advance and encouraging me.

An early spring day found Mr. Jaime Lannister frowning over his empty strawberry beds, relishing in the quiet that he was no longer afforded in his own home. He puzzled over his memories in an attempt to pinpoint when, exactly, his sister’s schemes had so determined his life — the fact that he was not the object of her determination alleviated his bitterness somewhat, but that his fate seemed tied to Cersei’s whims, despite his bystander status, was particularly unfair.

Work, for instance, had become far more bothersome than it should, as Marbrand had become increasingly melancholy. Miss Cersei Lannister could never return the affections bestowed upon her in equal measure — especially that of a land agent — and while Mr. Addam Marbrand had never expected her to do so and remained her faithful servant, his exhibition of feeling distressed his employer. Jaime rather thought that if Cersei could find reason to break with her principles, Marbrand would make an excellent addition to the Lannister line, given his flair for the dramatics. While their relationship was slightly tempered by distinction in rank, Jaime’s land agent was the one person outside of his family he could with certainty call and friend, thus increasing his irritation with his sister’s behaviour towards the man.

Jaime would not dwell on the septon debacle; it would only increase the likelihood he would need to call for Qyburn.

But now his home had been _invaded_ through _trickery._ The events had followed as such:

Cersei had approached him to invite Miss Lyanna Stark and Miss Elia Martell to visit, just as he had hinted at in King’s Landing. Cersei said she was _worried_ for Brienne and wanted to _cheer_ her with a _surprize._ How could Jaime disagree? So, naturally, Cersei handled the invitations — Jaime would have hated to do it and would have hated for Brienne to be distracted from her work.

And, naturally, his sister had taken advantage of his good nature, and now his home was overrun with the assurance that more interlopers would follow those who had already settled into his home, as Cersei had promised a ball to end this house party. Jaime had retaliated to his sister’s deviousness by adding an event he was sure would please Brienne and infuriate Cersei in equal measures: an Archery Meeting. This proved to be the case, and his vindication rested on the fact that Cersei could not express her complaints, as she had cited these social events to be in honour of Brienne.

In hindsight, Jaime regretted that his wife had become the center of a silent squabble between Cersei and himself, but Brienne’s spirits had been lifted by the visit of her friends, in equal amount to her husband’s had been irritated by the presence of Mr. Oberyn Martell. But the man’s more flamboyant displays that Jaime could complain about, had been tempered by the fact Cersei was set upon occupying the man’s time, much to Mr. Marbrand’s distress. Jaime prayed his sister was not yet again set upon being involved in some love scheme. Casterly had already seen enough melodrama for the decade based on the Baelish affair, in his mind; he rather thought his life was beginning to resemble one of those dreadful Harroway novels from the past century.

As he could not spend the entire day sulking in what basically amounted to dirt, Jaime plodded along the grounds of The Rock, until he reached the main house. A mellifluous melody carried through the air — Miss Martell was once again bestowing her gift upon his home; her concerts were welcome, even if the general idea of guests was not.

The first — and only — detail he noticed as he turned the corner into the drawing-room was Brienne’s smile, as her head gently swayed to the pianoforte’s tune; his irritation drifted away alongside the notes in the air.

In what had become her typical fashion, Cersei was in a whispered tête-à-tête with the young Mr. Martell, which had the favourable consequence of keeping the man from admiring Brienne too closely — the man could do so from afar, as was proper and, in Jaime’s mind, reasonable (for Brienne deserved to be admired but from a distance that made her most comfortable).

Miss Stark was not present; despite the girl’s eagerness to see Brienne — and her excitement at the idea of a day dedicated to an archery competition; she had spent a fair amount of her time at The Rock alone. Jaime had stumbled upon her in the library, pouring over letters she clutched closely to her body at his approach; when he had asked Brienne privately about Miss Stark’s strange behaviour, his wife had — as a matter of course — chided him for reading her suspicion into everyday life.

“Honestly, Jaime, you could be Catelyn Mormont,” she had scolded; her rebuke had not landed properly, as Jaime took being compared to Miss Arryn’s most literary heroine as a compliment. When he voiced this fact aloud, Brienne had sighed to cover her amusement.

When he had pushed, she replied, “I think she’s quite unhappy about the idea of marrying Mr. Baratheon, but her brothers keep pushing the match. You know as well as I the importance of duty to one’s family.”

Jaime hoped that Brienne’s sense of duty was not misplaced with her father and stepmother — both emotionally vampiric in their own way — but only voiced a counter, “And you know as well as I the misery of being pressured into an ill-fated match. Robert Baratheon will not make a good husband to any woman, for he is only faithful to his own base desires.”

Given that Lyanna Stark was perhaps even more strong-willed than Cersei, however, neither Jaime nor Brienne believed she could be coerced to marry such a man; her suffering would be in disappointing her brothers.

“Ned Stark deserves a few more disappointments in his life,” Jaime had said, when he managed to get the last word, and their attention was overtaken by more pleasant activities.

In the present moment, Brienne was content, so much so that she had not appeared vexed whatsoever about the upcoming parties at their home. When Jaime had complained Mrs. Bolton would likely bully him, she had merely laughed and assured him in an even tone at least his wish to not be in demand on the dance floor would likely be fulfilled — Mr. Martell would surely attract the attentions of the young ladies attending their ball. He was unsure of whether he should delight in his wife’s increasingly casual teases or if he should be offended by her estimation of his downfall in popularity.

Brienne had been far more joyful since the arrival of her friends and her father’s departure — his travels had been extended (Jaime would have extended his travels too if he had such a wife), but Selwyn Tarth was expected at The Rock’s ball. Separation from her stepmother, however little the distance between them was in actuality, correlated with the lightening of her mood. Jaime was, admittedly, disposed to petulance at the idea of guests, but seeing Brienne’s attentions towards her friends made the grand house feel like a home in a way it had not since the passing of his mother.

Watching Brienne’s care for everyone around her had turned Jaime’s thoughts in a quite a tender direction. He lately had entertained a vision of an unyielding toddler with bright blue eyes galloping through The Rock’s halls, of himself laughingly giving chase, and Brienne holding a tiny bundle watching the pair of them with an expression crossed between amusement and resignation at their antics. Perhaps some visits from true friends would be welcome, and Tyrion and Cersei would spend their evenings together, quietly judging the lives of their neighbours, without any form of repentance. The fondness between their little circle would be palpable, and by the end of his days, no trace of Tywin Lannister’s punishing pride would leave its mark on Casterly. —

Jaime was returned by the present, as he sensed Brienne’s eye upon him; he met her hopeful, loving gaze and wondered if she could intuit his thoughts. He returned her smile, clinging to the dream of making The Rock a home for their family.

He simply had to survive playing host first; with the future in mind, such a task could hardly prove to be as painful as he had previously known it to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Brienne has a lot of thoughts ... 
> 
> Notable Easter Eggs: The strawberry beds are a reference to Emma, of course; Jaime once again takes on some characteristics of Mr. Woodhouse — and perhaps Mrs. Bennet — as he feels a need for Qyburn over his nerves; Cersei's manipulation of the invitations doesn't really mirror Mrs. Elton's attempts to control them in Emma, but perhaps Austen would approve of the consequences of the breach of protocol; archery was definitely a nineteenth-century sport and while George Eliot may be the go-to author for archery scenes rather than Austen, the 1940 (?) adaptation of Pride and Prejudice features an archery scene; Harroway is a reference to Eliza Haywood, who I personally think is perfect; Elia definitely shares some traits with Jane Fairfax, including her musical talent; Catelyn Mormant is my very transparent Catherine Morland; Dracula may be the most famous vampire story of the nineteenth century, but before that there was The Vampyre; Anne Bronte and the Lannisters would very much understand one another; like Austen herself, Jaime sees the advantages of being removed from one's more trying relatives. 
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne attempts to console Lyanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your kind comments and enthusiasm. I am happy to say that I *have* managed to update on schedule, as well as have been working on the last portion of the story quite actively this week.
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara and jellyb34n for their lovely comments, suggestions, and encouragement.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, especially as the drama begins to once again creep into The Rock's halls.

Just because she was playing hostess to a small party of visitors and — soon — a larger party of guests for The Rock’s calendar of social events did not mean Brienne Lannister would shirk her duties to Casterly’s reformation projects. Brienne had overseen the creation of new staff schedules, so that even the most junior of the household staff at The Rock worked no more than eight hours; this had led to several new hires (not that the Lannister coffers suffered from these expenses), which had the happy consequence of employing several of the more migratory members of the Casterly community. In her more direct dealings with the household staff, Brienne began to worry for the youngest members of their household; she knew Mr. Umber had enacted some form of schooling at his mill and had written to him enquiring as to how The Rock might embark on a similar project.

By the accounts she had heard from the housekeeper, the staff’s morale — and quality of work — had risen; this Mrs. Hill had said to Brienne, should not reflect poorly on Jaime, but the changes had merely endeared him moreso to the staff, who had long loved him: “Young Mr. Lannister was always a good-hearted boy; I remember when he would sneak away from his mother to beg the kitchen staff for biscuits — he never had a cross word from him to any of us in my life, but never has he been so amiable since he met you.”

Brienne had blushed and stuttered a polite reply at this, accepting the compliments towards her husband with as much grace as the embarrassment at the praise directed towards herself would allow.

The idea of planning an Archery Meeting and ball were not so in Brienne’s purview, but Cersei had insisted that she do the majority of the work, as a gift to Brienne. While Brienne was, honestly, slightly suspicious of Cersei’s benevolence (and wondered if she should take it as an insult that Cersei had taken over what should have been _her_ duties), the benefits of not having to plan large-scale revelries outweighed the potential negative implications.

But Brienne could hardly leave all of the household duties to Cersei — no matter how eager her good-sister was to ‘help’ — and so had spent the greater part of the early afternoon in the library on business. It was there in quiet, in her refuge of books and parchments, that Lyanna found her.

When Lyanna Stark had taken interest in Brienne during their initial meeting, Brienne had been astounded, for very few women had taken interest in her before — Brienne’s mother had done so by virtue of the bond between parent and child, and Cersei had done so for love of her brother. Elia Martell had been unfailingly kind and was likely to befriend anyone who returned her gentle overtures, but Lyanna Stark was bold and beautiful; when she defied society, there were, naturally, whispers, but most of all there was admiration for her daring. A person with such strength of character and striking features was hardly the friend Brienne had expected to make. But they had first bonded over their shared love of riding and then discovered they had far more in common than Brienne could have guessed on outer appearance alone.

They had exchanged letters since Brienne’s return to Casterly, and in reading between the lines, she had surmised that Lyanna was particularly distressed by matters that weighed upon her mind, but these hints had not prepared Brienne for the haggard look that marked her friend’s face.

Brienne abandoned her work, sought to give her friend comfort, and asked, “Would you like me to call for tea?”

The question hardly conveyed the sentiment she wished, but Brienne’s social graces remained few, despite her marriage.

Lyanna perceived her meaning, however, and sat opposite Brienne before asking for her friend’s confidence in place of a beverage; Brienne readily agreed.

After a stifling pause, Lyanna attempted to find her words, “Do you — have you ever — you’re very much in love, are you not?”

A year ago, Brienne would have been unable to voice such a fact aloud, but she now had the security of her husband’s affections to readily admit to her own.

“And I know he’s very much in love with you; it only took me the span of five minutes to tell, you know, after seeing you in the same room,” Lyanna replied, then let silence fall for another moment. “Knowing he loved you too … what would you do to be with him?”

This question mystified Brienne; she had admittedly taken a reputational risk when she and Jaime had stolen moments together before their marriage but loving him, marrying him, being his partner were acts of honour. Before his declaration of love, she had presumed their friendship would be a novelty — she would have to maintain a steady and civil air, never revealing unwanted feelings. But none of her experiences with Jaime seemed to translate to the tone of Lyanna’s question; once their feelings had been spoken of openly, very little truly stood in the way of their match — something darker appeared to be at play in this instance.

“What do you mean?”

“If your father had pressured you to marry someone else, would you have been willing to take your fate in your hands and risk everything for love,” Lyanna asked urgently. “Could you go against your conscience?”

Brienne frowned. She would have liked to think of her past self as brave enough to defy her father if he had pushed a match, to have fought for her freedom if necessary; perhaps that would have been the case in a few more years if she had not yet met Jaime. Lyanna must be thinking of the much discussed, but never settled, engagement to Mr. Robert Baratheon. But, surely, Brienne thought, her father and brothers would not stand in the way of her marrying someone else, if she explained that her future happiness depended upon it!

“I did reject someone else — before,” Brienne hesitated, as this was the first time she had spoken of Mr. Hunt willingly to anyone but Jaime, “I knew he would never suit me or I him. If my father had insisted on my marrying him, I would like to think that if I were honest with him, he would understand. Especially if I _had_ known Jaime at the time.”

From Lyanna’s grimace, Brienne could tell that her words had not quite comforted her friend; this is why she endeavoured to avoid giving advice, for at best it was tolerable and at worst insufficient to meet the issue at hand.

Lyanna moved as if to speak, when she was interrupted by the sound of approaching tittering voices. Within a matter of seconds, Cersei and Mr. Martell had almost tumbled into the room, and each seemed to rely on the balance of the other. Whether this was the cause of hysterics or a stronger substance, Brienne could not say. Lyanna’s face flashed with irritation as she took in the pair, and Brienne wondered if her friend had been hinting about her affection for Mr. Martell; the intimacy between Elia and Lyanna had certainly brought the latter into close contact with the man.

The troublesome pair were seated and composed, apologizing with all due earnestness for their interruption, and polite conversation carried the party through the rest of the afternoon before dinner. Brienne noted, as she had throughout the visit, how Cersei would continue to sing the praises of ‘darling little Taena’ to Mr. Martell (and, generally, to anyone who would listen to her monologue). She did not think herself amiss in believing Cersei to be plotting another match for Taena, and while Brienne supposed that Cersei had chosen more wisely (Mr. Martell’s character was far more congenial than Mr. Baelish’s empty flatteries, and his lifestyle did not necessarily preclude him marrying a woman of lower rank), she hoped that Cersei would ensure that his heart was not already attached to any person, or if the rumours were true — persons — before carrying out further plans. Especially if Brienne’s guess was right and Lyanna and Mr. Martell _were_ involved.

Brienne tried to remember if there were any telling encounters between Lyanna and Mr. Martell as she dressed for dinner, but it always seemed Cersei kept the man in her grasp. How hurt she would be if the man who had claimed to love her devoted all his attention to another woman!

She wondered if she could potentially warn Cersei of the futility of this scheme without breaking Lyanna’s confidence when Jaime interrupted these thoughts with his request to escort her to dinner.

“I do apologize,” she said, realizing her delay affected the household. “I was just thinking that perhaps I should speak to Cersei about Mr. Martell —”

“You have now caught on to her newest scheme, then?”

“Jaime, don't laugh at it. I do think that this one might perhaps cause even more turmoil —"

“Perhaps dealing with Cersei is our means of practice for the future,” Jaime said lightly, as they walked down the stairs.

Brienne wondered how chaotic Jaime thought their ball was going to be if he was equating the event to his sister; she hummed in agreement but made a note to cheer him by offering a private dance in recompense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Cersei is forced into particularly awkward conversation ...
> 
> Notable Easter Eggs: Being a servant in a country house was NOT fun, no matter what spin Downton Abbey tried to put on it and as the strange reality show The Edwardian Country House/Manor House shows (and also any eighteenth/nineteenth-century novel that focuses on the servants or even governesses), and Brienne is trying to make it more humane; the eight hour workday/Mr. Umber and his efforts are once again a reference to Robert Owen ... although after working the eight hour day, I say we should cut it down even more; Brienne doesn't have patience for vagrancy laws and neither do I; Mrs. Hill's praise is definitely inspired by Mrs. Reynolds's praise of Darcy; it turns out the Lannister family, including Brienne, tend to trample over many of Austen's mores; I, uh, will not say if Elia and Lyanna have any directly inspired parallels at this point, but you may find them, although there are plenty of places in Austen where someone is pressured into marrying someone they don't want; the Emma matchmaking plot returns, modified.
> 
> As always, I would love to hear from you!

**Author's Note:**

> For updates, you can follow me on tumblr at [theunpaidcritic](https://theunpaidcritic.tumblr.com/).


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